100 words about…umbrellas

Umbrellas in New York are treacherous. Weapons wielded by people walking too fast, too single-mindedly. They drip on your legs as you’re squished in the train. They’re all black, purchased at Duane Reade and discarded, inside-out, when the wind gets too strong. They’re a dreaded accessory – oh no, showers again? What about my shoes? Yet when the rain pours down, finding its way between the sky-high towers, the sloppy scaffolding, the awnings dotting every hotel and café, then umbrellas are our saviors, shielding us on the 10-block walks to the subway.


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