The Adventures of a Twenty-something Aspiring Costume Designer, Writer, Artist... Dreamer.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
She was right, I did love that damned umbrella. At least, the way she twirled and spun it in her hands as she idly watched the passing clouds. There were days when it was a good indicator of her mood, seeing that umbrella in her hands. She was full of fiery passion, and used the umbrella to emphasize all her points. The captain got a good poke in the chest, upon trying to tell her that the voyage would take longer than expected due to crosswinds. When my dearest love had an appointment, even Heaven and Hell couldn't keep her from making it on time. The captain, ever apologetic, pushed his crew to the limits, stoked the engines, and made for Frankfurt at all haste. Somehow, we managed to keep on schedule, crosswinds be damned. And she just stood at the rail, umbrella draped on her shoulder, smiling that wicked smile of hers.