Black Umbrella

April 7, 2011
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The wind whistles a melody familiar and strange, you look sort of puzzled standing out in the damp with a black umbrella wondering where you've heard this melody before. You continue to walk footsteps like a drum keeping a steady beet against the cement pavement. The Sky seems to cry as the rain slowly drizzles away drowning its sorrows with a mask of overcast clouds that lie above. You hear the song again the song the wind whistles on the dull and dreary days, the kind you see in black and white photographs. Life has not advanced to technicolor you stare on into the dullness wondering what the colors are around you but you've never seen anything but black gray and white. You go to sit down on a bench as the wind starts to howl as the rain starts to pour, what happens next no one knows

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