Umbrellas Hasten Alone


There was drizzle and wind, biting. Wintery plague of frost descends upon streets, dense. Crowded with people, bustling. Bodies adrift with fixed stare upon feet, inhaling. Scent of wet concrete, exhaling. Clouds of breath into the cold, evaporate. Umbrellas flower open in array, colorful. Each unaware of the other’s beautiful display, alike. And individuals they will be, oblivious. As cells in a vein, umbrellas hasten alone. They cross the street and rush down the sidewalk in solitary tandem, circulating. 


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