notsobraveemily
The little boy walked in looking down. His hands were cupped around a small worm. His mother asked why he looked so concerned. "I found this wormie and he was alone. I don't know where his mommy is!"
The word keeps coming, why won't it give me another? Umbrella, umbrella, I need one to shield me from that word. Why won't it leave me alone? I want something different but all I get is the picture of a rainy day and the thought of solace under the umbrella.
Little children run across the street. The nanny follows “Slow down! I am old!” They laugh, the boy looks up to feel a single raindrop fall on his face. They dash back to the woman before the downpour ensues, they search for the protection of her umbrella.