That Day

He dreamt of one. Then another and another...until the sky wascrowded with them. Umbrellas. Pristine white. Open. Descending from uphigh. Why?

They were irrelevant in his daily life. Not so for his wife who neededdifferent umbrellas to complement her wardrobe.

Upon awakening he realized what triggered the scene he envisioned. Whyhe told his boss he wouldn’t be at work that day.

“Does this go with my sweater?” his wife asked, opening an umbrella byhis bedside.

The man quietly slid back under the covers.

No way was he going to move on Friday the 13th.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna, a former librarian, gathers tidbits from around theworld in her travels, strings them into delectable morsels of poetryand prose, and stores them in her gopher hole in the CanadianPrairies. She is open to sharing, upon request.