As you leave your house for a long day at work, you wonder if you should have brought your umbrella. The sky is dark and cloudy, and there’s a stillness in the air that comes only before a storm. It looks like rain, and it smells like rain, but still, you did not bring your umbrella. Why? You saw it on your way out of the house, lying on the ground beside the door, pink polkadot galore, but why didn’t you grab it? You remember seeing the weather forecast the night before, the one that predicted rain, a giant green blob forming right over your area to end the drought, but your umbrella remains where you left it. You’re walking to work, side by side with plenty of people in the city who, you notice, are all carrying their umbrellas. You’re starting to feel a little stupid now; you had the chance to take your umbrella with you, and you’re surprised you didn’t go back to grab it. The man beside you looks up to the sky and states the obvious, “Looks like it’s going to rain.” You nod in agreement and feel a little self-conscious. Does he know you forgot your umbrella? No -- does he know you decided not to bring your umbrella? When it was so obviously going to rain? Perhaps if you remained calm and acted as if you had your umbrella, then people would not tell you that it is going to rain. So you continue walking to work, a bounce in your step despite the inevitable soaking that awaits you later on. You pass an umbrella stand, and spot among the various colors and designs, a pink polkadot umbrella exactly like the one you left at home. If it were not for the fact that you were pretending to have your umbrella, then you’d have bought an umbrella, but your hypothetical umbrella remains in your pocket, ready for use. The day drags on; people discuss the weather, and storm that’s hammering at the windows. You exit the building at five and hold out your hand, pretending to be surprised as the droplets fall on your open palm.