The Red Umbrella

For nearly a year, I noticed the same red umbrella.

Every Tuesday.

Always at 6:10 PM.

It appeared outside the office building just as I was leaving work.

I never saw the person holding it clearly.

They always stood across the street, facing the entrance.

At first, I assumed it was a coincidence.

Then I started noticing something strange.

The person never seemed to be going anywhere.

They simply stood there for a few minutes before disappearing.

One rainy Tuesday, curiosity finally won.

Instead of walking toward the train station, I crossed the street.

The person immediately started walking away.

I followed.

They turned onto a quiet street.

Then another.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a small house.

The umbrella closed.

I finally saw the person.

It was an elderly woman.

She looked at me and smiled.

"You've been following me."

I apologized.

She laughed.

"I suppose you deserve to know."

She pointed toward the house.

"My son worked in your building."

I recognized the name.

He had been an employee there.

He had died several years earlier in an accident.

The woman explained that every Tuesday was his last day at work.

He used to call her on his way home.

She waited for his call every week.

Even though he was gone, she still came to the building.

"Why?" I asked.

She looked at me.

"Because for a few minutes, I can pretend he's still going to walk out."

I didn't know what to say.

The following Tuesday, I waited outside with her.

We stood across from the entrance.

Neither of us spoke.

At 6:10, the doors opened.

People walked past us.

But she didn't move.

She simply smiled.

The red umbrella opened.

And we walked home together.