It all happened so quickly; as does a typically Midwestern summer downpour.
There I was, a sopping mass of summer clothes, huddled under my umbrella, when your eyes found mine and I beckoned you to join me. You did without protest, we tittered about our shared misfortune, I offered you a stick of gum that you politely refused.
Then the wind picked up, your fingers wrapped around mine as you helped me anchor our shelter against the gusts of wind, and magical details of several timelines popped into life, as a thousand synapses discharged at once—
There we were barreling down the highway to our favourite songs, reading under canopies in a summer daze, watching the sun over the tops of autumn-coloured trees, rushing toward the frigid waves despite rational judgement, slinking away from a gregarious crowd to share a moment, fervently dissecting cinematic plot lines —
Then just as quickly as the storm had gathered, the need for the real estate under my umbrella dissipated. The clouds parted ways, the sun reached reflectively for the puddles, the clamour reduced to a pitter-patter. You thanked me for my kindness and walked away, leaving me to soak in the splendour of the fireworks display by my lonesome.