He returned my umbrella three years later. With a note inside that explained everything.
She lent a stranger her umbrella in a storm. Three years later it appeared on her doorstep with a letter.
It was pouring.
The kind of rain that erases the sidewalk.
He was standing under the awning of a closed bakery.
No coat. No umbrella. Soaked through.
I had an extra one. The cheap kind from the drugstore.
I handed it to him without stopping.
He said wait.
I kept walking.
I didn't look back.
It was a three dollar umbrella. I had two more at home.
I forgot about him by the time I got to my apartment.
Three years passed.
I moved twice. Changed jobs.
Different city. Different life.
Then one Tuesday a package appeared at my door.
No return address.
Inside was a black umbrella.
Not the cheap one I gave him.
A nice one. Heavy. With a wooden handle.
And a folded note tucked inside the sleeve.
The note said: You gave me shelter when I had none. I've been looking for you ever since. I found you.