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So I’ll keep the umbrella. And every time it rains, I’ll think of the old man running through the storm with open arms.

The Umbrella That Wasn't Mine Posted by Anastase on 3 April, 2026

Do you ever hold onto something for so long that you forget it was never yours to begin with? blogul anastase

That’s when I saw it. Leaning against the coat rack. Unclaimed. A bit sad, like a stray dog waiting for someone to notice it.

Five years ago, almost to the day. A Tuesday. I was at the "La Scuar" coffee shop, the one with the creaky floorboards and the old man who always reads the same newspaper twice. I had finished my espresso, paid with the last coins in my pocket, and stood by the door like a fool, watching the downpour thrash the pavement. So I’ll keep the umbrella

So now the umbrella sits by my door again. I don’t know if I should return it. He clearly doesn’t want it. But it was never mine. And yet, in some strange way, it is.

So I took it. Walked out into the storm, opened it triumphantly — and immediately felt a cold drip on my forehead. One of the spokes was broken. A small betrayal, but a betrayal nonetheless. That’s when I saw it

“That was mine, băiete. I left it there on purpose, so I’d have an excuse to run out into the rain. I like getting wet. Reminds me I’m alive.”