Thoughtful Umbrella

Today I saw an abandoned umbrella, and for some reason it stayed on my mind for some time. It was colourful with a variety of reddish spring tones, the kind you could tell would look much nicer when it rains. Its skeleton was black and it had a wooden handle, formed like a capital j. It looked like a youthful, happy umbrella. One that enjoyed being carried around and getting wet. 

I saw it on a handrail at Rheinbach Station. I was sitting in the train headed to Bonn. When the machine came to a halt I looked out the window and there it was, hanging upside down next to a dark blue 26'' mountain bike. There was nobody around, though, no person who could be claimed its owner. Left-alone bicycles are no rarity, of course, but the parked umbrella caught my eye. 

Some guy in Tokyo went to the bank on a rainy day. While he was taking care of business the weather changed and it stopped raining. As he left the bank, after finishing his business, he forgot about the umbrella that he had left hanging on the door handle. A few days later it rained again. The guy remembered his umbrella, and when he went to the bank it was still there, exactly where he had left it. 

That's a story someone told me a long time ago, and the umbrella at the train station reminded me of it. I don't remember who told it to me, but somehow I can recall the way it was told. The storyteller, probably a friend of mine at school, told it to underline the respect for other people's property in Japan. I thought it was a pretty good story. 

Like the person in the story, I went to Bonn and had a busy day. I went to a café and got some work done, I ran into some friends, and talked to others on the phone. And I met my awesome friend Sandra for coffee. Unfortunately, I forgot to tell her about the umbrella. On my way back I payed extra attention at Rheinbach Station. The same umbrella was still there. But it didn't look so happy anymore.