The Umbrella by the Door
It was raining again—the kind of soft, steady rain that made the city sound like it was breathing. Minh stood by the library door, watching people hurry past with their umbrellas like colorful little sails. He didn’t mind the rain. What he minded was forgetting his own umbrella on the bus.
He checked his phone. The screen glowed: “Rain expected all evening.” He sighed. Maybe he would wait a bit longer, read another chapter, pretend the world outside wasn’t soaked and gray.
That was when she walked in—carrying an umbrella that looked far too bright for such a day. Yellow. Like a piece of sunlight had refused to leave.
She shook off the raindrops, smiling at the librarian. “The streets are like rivers,” she said, her voice soft but cheerful. Then she turned and caught Minh staring. For a second, he froze. She smiled at him too an easy, unguarded kind of smile.
“You forgot yours?” she asked, noticing his empty hands.
He nodded, a little embarrassed. “Yeah. My umbrella decided to stay on the bus.”
She laughed, the sound light as the rain. “That’s a shame. Mine seems loyal so far.”
Minh smiled back. “Lucky you.”
They both lingered near the door, as if neither really wanted to step outside yet. The rain grew heavier, drumming against the glass. Minh glanced at the yellow umbrella, then at her. “You know,” he said, “I live just around the corner. If you’re heading that way, maybe we can share.”
She tilted her head. “You trust strangers that easily?”
He thought for a moment. “Only the ones who bring their own sunshine.”
That made her laugh again, and she opened the umbrella between them. “Alright then, sunshine it is.”
They walked through the rain together awkward at first, careful not to bump shoulders. The umbrella barely covered them both, so they had to walk close, their steps matching slowly. Around them, the world blurred into silver and reflection. The air smelled of wet earth and jasmine from a nearby garden.
At the corner of his street, Minh stopped. “This is me,” he said. “Thank you—for sharing your umbrella.”
She nodded. “You’re welcome. I like walking in the rain when I’m not alone.”
For a moment, they just stood there. The rain softened, the streetlight turned everything to gold. Minh wanted to ask her name, but before he could, she smiled again. “Maybe I’ll see you at the library?”
He nodded. “I’ll be there.”
She waved and walked away, her yellow umbrella glowing like a lantern in the drizzle.
The next day, the rain stopped. Minh returned to the library. By the door, hanging neatly on the coat rack, was a yellow umbrella and a small note tucked under its handle.
It said: *“In case it rains again.”*