The gloom fell around like a heavy, wool blanket. My sister sat beside me under her cheerful yellow umbrella, but we weren’t together. She was oblivious to anyone, especially me, texting some unknown friend or lover.
I stuck my foot out from it’s protection under my black umbrella. I watched giant raindrops fall on my barefoot, then slide down around my ankle.
My sister and I had started our love for rain when we were young. When the rain would begin to fall, we’d pick up an umbrella and head outside. The rain was our friend, our companion in our world of make-believe and pretend. But things do change. I guess we grew tired of each others company. I now just grabbed a book, and she had her phone. There was no need for each other now.
And the rain continued to fall.