About the work

The umbrella never opened. It was a gift from an ex who had a particular fondness for things that folded neatly, things that could be put away and forgotten until needed. She’d bought it because it matched his new jacket, a detail he found charming at the time. He kept it by the door of his first real apartment, and then this one, a silent, dry sentinel. It has never seen rain, not once, even though he takes it with him almost every day, just in case. Why, then, does he carry it?