The Rain Belongs to Me

By the time Kenneth Ford finally showed up, I was already soaked through.

He wasn't alone. There was a girl under his umbrella, and at well over six feet tall, Kenneth had enough height to shield her almost completely from the rain.

He'd tilted the umbrella so far toward her that one side of his shirt was getting drenched, but he didn't seem to care.

He just smiled and let her stay tucked safely beside him. Then he saw me, and the smile on his face disappeared.

"Sorry, I'm late," he muttered.