When winter comes about, I see tones of black and white, for a variety of reasons such as the mute sky, the dreary weather, and the naked trees and the stand out reason being that every bloody person seems just as miserable as me. But at this moment most of the other misery guts have umbrellas, sheltering them from the winters piss, and of course for the fool I am I’ve left my black and white striped umbrella on the 740 tram. As I walk through the town each drop of rain that lands on me seems to be mocking me.
Ahead of me a sign reads; Cup full of Rustic an indication that hipsters are taking over the world. In revolt to this hipster revolution I nonchalantly walk into the café and steal one of their newspapers. Comfortably I walk back outside.
‘Excuse me, Sir,’ one of the hipsters yells out to me on the street.
‘You can’t take our paper,’ she said.
I wave her off, and continue my walk home. Winter what I can say it brings out the prick in me. That’s a lie. I’m a prick all the time.
I makeshift the paper into a rain hat, fashionable. No. Protection from the rain. Somewhat. Beside me a tram pulls up, and an infestation of people roll off. All of them focused on their journey home, the occasional person bumps into me and one little brat knocks me thus causing me to drop my make shift rain hat, which of course lands in a puddle. The child looks at me. I stare down at her, I let out a little grunt. She begins to cry. I walk on.
Bobbing up and down in the crowd ahead, I see a familiar looking black and white stripped umbrella. Curiosity takes a hold of me and I follow after the umbrella. Certain that its mine.
The traffic light turns red, giving me the chance to be next to the stranger with this particular umbrella. On the wooden handle etched in is the name Don. This brings me to conclusion that it’s my umbrella. A perfectly timed strong wind pushes past everyone, which cause the man’s grip to loosen on my umbrella. With one quick yank I take the umbrella which is rightfully mine. Before the man can do anything I hope on 280 tram. The doors close, and the tram begins to move. Feeling accomplished I wave goodbye to the dumbfounded fella who once had my umbrella.