my violent shakes had gotten too much till i couldn't just sit in the stale indoor air. there was something odd about the night i was swimming through. there was no rain just the silent buzz of the occasional car or the numb hubbub of a nearby pub. i felt warm and safe even without my safety blanket of little grey dots.
before i can think my legs had made their way towards a quiet cafe. little plants laced the walls, highlighting the forgotten corners. you could still smell the spilt coffee from the morning rush and the burn of cool wood now grey as if that was its useless destiny.
sometimes i feel like wood. people know i am there but they are now too selfish; so they take my warmth for granted and leave me cold and grey. i find myself sitting nestled under a canopy of fairy lights. slowly i pull out my leather bound notebook from my bag and write wonky words with my shaking hands.
feeling someones footsteps echo through the floorboards causes my head to raise from my study of words. standing over me was a girl of my age swamped by long red hair, contrasting from my dull blonde locks. i watched as she prepared her delicate lips to speak,
"now what's a pretty girl like you doing lost among the stars?"
i knew she was referring to the petite lights balanced cautiously above my head but to me it felt like so much more. so i let the words that followed from my mouth speak my thoughts
"and what's a bright girl like you doing reading my twisted thoughts? it's a dangerous world up there you know."
she smiled slightly at my comment showing off her crooked teeth but making her emerald eyes shine brighter than any star. without speaking she made her way to the wooden floorboards beside me balancing a half empty cup of peppermint tea in her hands.
"the name's isla, yours?"
"willow"
so together we sat under a canopy of stars lighting up in our eyes as a new white umbrella lay at our sides. hand in hand, a book in the other i breathed a steady sigh for the first time since my little grey umbrella had been broken.
YOU ARE READING
umbrella - short story
Short Story. f . (anxiety, lgbt) my world, one laced with anxiety, crashes down on me like rain on a regular basis. so now I remember to hold an umbrella instead of feeling the ache patter down my chest. but normally umbrellas start to break when the weight o...
