The Girl in the Yellow Raincoat

It was raining heavily and everyone had brought an umbrella except the little girl in the yellow raincoat who danced under the cloud-filled skies, splashing from puddle to puddle. The two adults knew she was only young, and if they asked her to stop she might release her tears, so they just stood and watched.

"Last week her father died," one said.

"Why?"

"Shot himself."

"Where?"

"In the house, the girl found him."

"How old is she?"

"Nine."

The two stood together near the bus sign and looked to the graveyard across the street where the people were all gone except the little girl in the yellow raincoat who seemed hopeful, even in the downpour of the rain. The streetlights allowed the puddles to shine on the pavement. People walked to their cars, heads bowed, avoiding the rain in solemn silence.

"She better get off the street now. It's getting late," one said.

"What does it matter? Her mother obviously doesn't care enough, letting her out in this weather."

The girl in the yellow raincoat's giggling was drowned out in the rainstorm. The man with the gray umbrella approached her.

"Where's your mother?" The little girl looked at the man, "Mommy told me she was visiting Daddy in the graveyard," she said.

"She shouldn't have left you alone," the man said. The little girl looked at him. The man with the gray umbrella went away.

"Who knows how long she'll stay there," he said to the man with the black coat. "No wonder the man killed himself last week, with the recklessness that mother has."

The man with the gray umbrella picked up his phone and strode back to the girl in the yellow raincoat. He gave the phone to her.

"Here, call your mother, do you know her number?" he said to the girl in the yellow raincoat. The girl shrugged. "I forgot it," she said. The man sighed, taking his phone back from the girl gently, so as to not hurt her. "Be careful, alright? The little girl nodded, "I will mister!" she said politely. The man with the gray umbrella smiled and walked back to the bus post where the other man stood.

"She's too young to be alone," he said.

"Why do you care so much?"

"She's only nine."

"She's not your kid."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"If she's not your child, then she's none of your business."

"She's plenty of my business if the mother isn't caring for her right."

"The mother is in grief."

"That doesn't give her the right to neglect her kid."

"If your wife died, you would feel the same way."

"Her husband probably died from her ignorance. If the gun hadn't killed him, his wife sure would have."

"Well, I don't see the problem. The girl seems perfectly happy. She's practically dancing. Look at her."

"I don't want to look at her. Unlike her mother, I cannot bear to see a child alone. It's immoral"

The little girl looked from the puddles made by the rain to the two men. The man with the gray umbrella hurried over once more.

"You should go find your mother now," he said, making his voice higher than normal so the girl would take his advice lightly.

"Please mister? One more jump?" said the girl, her boots cloaked in rain.

"One more, but after that, you must go to her, okay?" The man moved his gray umbrella to his right shoulder and walked away again.

"The bus will be here soon," the man in the black coat continued.

The little girl in the yellow raincoat jumped in her last puddle, then waved goodbye to the man with the gray umbrella. The man watched her go into the graveyard, hope, in the darkness of tragedy.