Sharing an umbrella forces an intimacy you can't fake.
We were in our own little bubble, shielded from the rain that now fell with more conviction. The world outside the clear plastic dome was a watery, blurred impression. Inside, there was only the steady drumming of rain, the faint, sugary scent of gummy bears, and her.
Our shoulders brushed as we walked. My arm, holding the umbrella, was extended over her, a gesture that felt both protective and achingly temporary.
"So, does this amateur meteorologist have a name?" she asked, popping the red gummy bear into her mouth.
"Kelin Ishida," I said. "And the position also comes with a PhD in gummy bear philosophy, by the way."
Her eyebrows shot up, a playful glint in her amber eyes. "Oh, really? I didn't know that was a field of study. Please, enlighten me."
"It's a very serious science," I insisted, my face a mask of academic gravity. "For instance, extensive research shows that a person's character can be judged by which color gummy bear they pick first."
She gasped dramatically. "A personality test? I wasn't prepared! What does red mean?"
I nodded sagely. "Ah, red. The cherry. A classic choice. It signifies a bold personality. Someone who is adventurous, passionate, and not afraid to take the lead." I paused for effect. "Also, possibly a vampire."
She burst out laughing, a delightful sound that was quickly becoming my new favorite thing about Day 79. "A vampire? Because of the color red?"
"The evidence is compelling," I deadpanned. "You should probably stay out of the sun... oh wait." I gestured to the thick grey clouds. "Looks like you're safe for today. A lucky coincidence."
"And what about you?" she challenged, holding the bag out to me. "What does your choice say about your soul, oh wise one?"
I looked into the bag. My fingers hovered, then deliberately bypassed the other colors and picked out a blue one.
A pale, sky-blue one.
My heart gave a painful little lurch. I hadn't planned it. It was instinct. A subconscious echo of yesterday's victory.
I popped it in my mouth, the artificial raspberry flavor a ghost on my tongue.
Sina watched me, her head tilted. "Blue," she mused. "What dark secrets does the blue one reveal?"
I swallowed, the candy suddenly hard to get down. I forced a smile. "Blue... blue means the person is calm. Loyal." I hesitated, the real, painful truth bubbling up from the place where I kept my memories of her. "And maybe... a little bit sad."
The playful energy between us faltered for a second. The mood shifted, just like it had in the record store.
She saw it. Her smile softened, her gaze turning from curious to... perceptive. "Why sad?"
Because I remember yesterday. Because I'm holding an umbrella over the girl of my dreams who has no idea we've shared a thousand moments just like this one.
"Because blue things are always a little bit sad," I deflected, gesturing vaguely at the rainy sky. "The sky when it rains. The ocean. Sad songs."
The last two words slipped out before I could stop them. Her brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of something... a sense of déjá vu she couldn't possibly place. A word that felt familiar for no reason.
I had to pull us out of this nosedive. Fast.
"But!" I said, my voice suddenly bright and loud. "My research also shows that the sadness of blue is easily canceled out by the presence of a bold, adventurous, possibly vampiric red. It's basic gummy bear thermodynamics."
The absurdity of the sentence worked. The tension broke, and her gentle smile returned.
"Gummy bear thermodynamics," she repeated, shaking her head. "You're very weird, Kelin Ishida."
"I prefer 'unconventionally brilliant'," I corrected.
We reached the school's main entrance, the wide overhang providing shelter. The mission was a success. We were out of the rain. The need for my umbrella was over.
I collapsed it with a final WHOOSH, shaking off the water. The little bubble we'd been in popped. We were back in the crowded, noisy hallway, surrounded by other students.
"Well," she said, clutching her books. "Thanks for the... uh... meteorological rescue."
"Anytime," I said. "Keep the emergency rations. You might need them." I gestured for her to keep the bag of gummies.
"Thanks." She paused at the bottom of the main staircase, turning back to me. "You know, for a second back there..." she began, her voice hesitant. "When you mentioned sad songs... it felt like we'd talked about that before."
My blood ran cold. My heart stopped beating. No. No way. Don't do this to me.
She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh, shaking her head as if to clear it. "Sorry. That's a weird thing to say. I must be imagining it. I have a really bad memory."
The irony was a physical blow, knocking the wind out of me. I must have looked strange, because her smile wavered, replaced by a flicker of concern.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
I forced my lungs to work. Forced my face into a neutral, easygoing expression.
"Yeah," I lied, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears. "Just... thinking about the next weather pattern."
She accepted the answer, gave me one last curious look, and then turned and disappeared up the stairs, swallowed by the crowd.
I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly weak.
That had never happened before. Not once in seventy-eight previous days. A flicker. An echo. A ghost of a memory that she shouldn't have been able to access.
It was probably nothing. A coincidence. A lucky guess based on the melancholy vibe I was putting out.
But what if it wasn't?
For the first time in a long time, the familiar, painful script of my life had a new, terrifying, and unbelievably hopeful line written into it. And I had no idea what it meant.