Brooklyn, Happy Anniversary

PROMPT (Time 5 minutes): Write about someone real or fictitious, celebrating an anniversary.

Fog veiled the bridge. I knew what was on the other side, but I had no idea where I was going. Rain fell hard on the umbrella keeping my hair dry, pit-a-patting like a battle drum. I wish my shoes would do the same. I hate it when my feet are wet, but that is the least of my problems now.

He always liked my hair. That might have been the only thing he liked about me these days. I still wanted my hair to look good for him. Just in case he decided to run after me. Pathetic. I knew the truth. My umbrella was all I had left of my life on the Upper East Side. 

The traffic crossing the bridge felt as congested as my thoughts. How did we get here? How did my dreams of falling in love, living in the big city, and raising a family turn into this? Whatever this is.

My feet slushed through the puddles on the bridge. A strong wind lunged at me, pushing me to abandon my grip on the umbrella. There goes my hair. I stopped walking. I stood in the center of the bridge and looked back at the city behind me. Sure, it was beautiful alright, but when you looked closer, it was dangerous and smelt bad.

I felt my hair. The rain and wind sure did their damage. He wasn’t coming. He was never coming. I just needed to destroy my hair to remind me of that truth. He made his choice. She had poison-ivy curls. I turned my back on Manhattan and headed into the fog.

That was ten years ago. Brooklyn, happy anniversary.