He walks along the shore not knowing his exact destination. A slight

tapping resonates from his black shoes, they’re dull, but lately he

hasn’t had the energy to care. So not to lose his sanity he

remembers the fundamentals of his life, he was born in Chicago in

the year 1964. He has to think for a moment to remember

something else, “My name is James Dolan, my name is James

Dolan…” he mumbles to himself, not caring if the passerby think

he’s lost his mind because he truly has lost it. His mind is a million

miles away, it left James, but that’s what happens when ones heart

leaves, their mind has to follow. The clouds overhead should add to James’ bleak disposition, but he’s too detached to consider it as a factor. The inevitable rain 

pours from the clouds like a dam breaking open, and James’ has

sense enough to walk under nearest overhang of a small café he

used to like for cover. He doesn't really think about what he likes

much now. The rain pours down at a constant rate; unrelenting

even to the bleak gray that surrounds him.

          James sees a red umbrella through the rain induced haze.

He approaches the color at a hasty rate and is surprised to see that

the umbrella is, in fact real. He hadn’t seen color or hadn't noticed

it in over three years. The only quality of the image that surprises

him more than the umbrella is the small girl that is standing just

underneath it. He believes he recognizes her, but doesn’t know

exactly where he could have seen her.

          “Do I know you from somewhere?”

          “Well I'd be surprised if you did!” the small girl replies with a

bright smile on her face  that is infectious to say in the least, “I'm

not from here, and I'm dreadfully lost.”

.         “I'm sorry miss, but I must have mistaken you for someone

else.” He regrets saying the words the second they were out fearing

now that she would agree and leave him.

         “It's alright, but I wouldn't mind the company.” She pauses

for the moment then continues,”Do you have the time?” She

sweeps her head around seeming to look for a clock, but deems it

unsuccessful as she looks back at James expectantly.

         “It's about 5:30,”

         “ I have about an hour then.”

         “An hour until what, if I may ask?”

         “ ‘til I have to board my boat back to a city, then on a train,

then on a bus, then on a plane to France.” She replies dreamily as if

she is already sitting on top of the Eiffel Tower.

         James is concerned that he is so against this idea of her

leaving when he has just met this little girl. He finds it a little than

more odd that this girl, who looks fourteen to be boarding a boat by

herself. He wasn't one to judge though, and who was he to care?

         “Do you have a name?” he calls off because she’s already

walking off twirling her red umbrella in hand.

         “Clara.” she has to half shout before she turns and asks, “Is

there anywhere to eat around here?”

       He walks with Clara talking about frivolous things before he

leads her into a café. Suddenly nausea overcomes him while black

spots appear in his vision. He grips the nearest chair fearing he will

fall over.
         “Is everything all right?”

         Everything all at once goes away, and he can breathe. “Quite

alright” he turns and smiles at Clara, “Now, what would you like?”

        They chat for what seems like a few minutes as they sit inside

the café. James is amazed at everything they both share in common, even their features resemble one another. All too soon the

bill is brought over by a waitress who looks strangely concerned

and scared both at the same time.

         “Is everything all right mister?”

         He is confused for a moment, then realizes she must mean

the food. “Everything was excellent, ah thank you.” He watches her

leave and whisper something to another waitress who looks over

her shoulder right at James with a look filled with concern.

         Clara's eyes wander around the small café when they lock on

a clock and widen, “Look at the time! It's almost 6:30!”she gets up

quickly and drags James with her outside into the rain.

         “The docks are this way!” he shouts as she was running the

opposite direction of the Sea.

         “What would I do without you?” She asks as she drags him

the right way now.

          They reach the docks just as the passenger boat he assumes

she is boarding is calling for their last passengers.

         “I'm here, I’m here!” She calls breathlessly and turns to face

James, “thank you for everything.” She says as she hugs him so

hard he feels like he can’t breathe.

          “The pleasures all mine,” he replies, “ but I have to ask you

for your phone number or address so I can call or write to you.”

         “You won't need that.”

         “And why’s that?”

         “I'll come back.”

         “From Paris?”

         “I always come back,” with that she turns with her red

umbrella in hand and walks up onto the boat.

        “Goodbye Clara,” he calls hoping she will see him. She

appears at the top deck, red umbrella and everything.

         “It's never been goodbye James.”