My Shield

Beneath my dark umbrella the tears from my eyes blended with errant rain drops. I was greatful for its shelter. I could have cared less about getting drenched, however. The true value of the umbrella was its shielding fabric that prevented passing students from seeing my blotchy miserable face.

It had been like this for most of the day. I would think I was over him. I'd count my blessings that I had gotten out of the relationship before one of us seriously hurt the other. I'd look towards the future, of the romantic interests I could pursue, the weekends I'd now have free. But inevitably my mind would circle back to the bad thoughts. How we'd never spend hours in bed cradling each other. How I would never get the sense of peace I had when he would hold my hand.

No one was the bad guy. Sometimes, I thought that was for the best; none of my memories was shaded by distrust. Sometimes, it seemed irrelevant, being away from him - being separate from him - seemed like the lowest low no matter how we had ... ended it.

At least the weather wasn't overly cheery. No one was out and about laughing or walking arm in arm. No couples were having picnics on the open quads.Everyone had downcast eyes, everyone was shielded by their hoods and umbrellas. I kept walking, boots scraping the ground, my shield securely over my spinning head.