Casualty of the storm

The pink, lifeless frame lay disfigured almost beyond recognition upon the path next to the river; another victim of the mighty, but dispassionate elements.

People glanced nervously downward as they passed, not being able to help themselves but to look. For a brief, fleeting moment, they desperately hoped that the same fate wouldn’t befall them, before self-confidence returned and they hurried away to go about their daily lives.

I did the same, of course, and as I hunched my shoulders and quickened pace, I hoped that my umbrella was made from much sterner stuff.