Anna Shadburn
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The Unnoticed Puddle
The way the light bent in the puddle reminded me of the distorted world outside of it. Each raindrop it collected seemed to represent small fragments of necessity. Of ambiguity. Of time. I stood transfixed, unaware of the chaotic street around me. I could still hear the woman beside me talking into her discrete earbuds. I could hear the loudness of her neon sneakers juxtaposed with her gray, corporate suit. I could hear the rain steadily fall onto my transparent umbrella, a convenient barrier between me and the others that blurred reality. I could hear the steam emanating from the hotdog cart as it intermingled with the violinist on the opposing corner. But still, my eyes gazed at this puddle and its poetic combination of the colors gathered from the street lights and yellow-painted lines. It wasn’t until the neon-shoed woman bumped into my umbrella that I realized the crosswalk light had changed. And just like that, I was lost in a sea of people who one at a time walked through the curated puddle to cross the street and get on with their day. I never understood why others complained of rainy days. The way the wet streets and the gathered water mirror the details around us that often go unnoticed. The way it brings out the best or worst in people; whether one sees it for its beauty or for its inconvenience.
By Anna Shadburn2 years ago in 01