I know you, all about you, your inside and your outside. I know the freckles that dot across you in hidden places; I joined them with my fingertip, once, and watched how the skin and it's hairs dimpled at my touch. I know your ambitions, your dreams, your memories. I project them onto my own canvass and sketch around their outlines and color them in with my own palette.
Remember the steps and the rain? Remember: the bruise of the sky, blue and purple and violent, and beneath it the veins of city, it's streets, glistening and reflecting difficult light back up into the air. The umbrella I held was only big enough for one and so I held it over you. The rain ran across its skin and dripped in a circle around your body, framing you. The city lay before us, and you stood out. The rain will always fall on this city, I know that now. The rain will fall onto this street forever and ever. And I will always be holding this umbrella.

Learn more about this author, David Rogers.
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