The Red Umbrella

It rains every day this week. I have a small red umbrella.

On Monday, I go to the bus stop. A woman stands there. She has no umbrella and her hair is wet.

I hold my umbrella over her head. She smiles. "Thank you," she says.

The bus comes. We get on together. She sits next to me.

"I am Deniz," she says.

"I am Kaan."

We talk for ten minutes. Then she gets off at the market.

On Tuesday, it rains again. Deniz is at the bus stop. She has a new umbrella.

"For you," she says. "Now we both have one."