Flash Fiction with the words: umbrella, walk, thread
|She passed by the store daily as she skipped her way to school. The game never wavered. Eyes closed and then opened outside the glass window. Every time, Meera’s heart would skip a beat as she saw the multi-colored umbrella. One day she would buy it and wished hard that no one else would see what she saw in it. Viru uncle, who owned the store refused to take her coveted prize off the display
The odd jobs were helping create her nest egg. Her mother didn’t understand the little girl’s fascination with that umbrella.
“We have one at home. Why do you want to buy another expensive one?”
Meera smiled in response. “You wouldn’t understand amma.”
The savings accumulated, and she finally had what the price tag said. That morning, she had an extra spring to her walk.
As usual, the store was open early.
Mr Viru was out with his bucket and mop.
“Oh, hello Meera. Sorry about your umbrella. Someone bought it last night.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Who, uncle?” was all she could muster.
Mr Viru scrunched his ancient eyes. “I have never seen him before here. Must be from out of town.”
Years went by. She thought she would outgrow the umbrella desire, but it was always there, in the back of her mind.
Then, one day, it happened. A tall, thin man with a thick overcoat came towards her with her umbrella. She couldn’t see his face in the rain. He stopped in front of her.
“This is yours,” he stated.
As she held the umbrella, a thread from the past unraveled. She was a little girl again, in front of the store. But this time, the umbrella was in her hand.