March 10 @ 9:34 A.M.: Iris

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With an oh, no you don't, I pried open the subway door milliseconds before its shark-like jaws closed for good.

You're not going anywhere, buster! 

I really needed some answers!

Don't be afraid to follow your heart, the man had said.

Was it a coincidence? Naw. It can't have been.

What had he meant by that?

Was this one of those when the Universe speaks, you shut up and listen serendipitous moments?

I itched to find out as I ascended the Stairway to Heaven, or, at least the stairway to the surface. Hot on the heels of my guy prey, I skipped every other step in my tattered red Converse.

With the nimble gait of a long-time commuter, I slalomed my way through the forest of Bostonians. My eyes were trained on the light-toned, almost translucent shirt Train Jesus was wearing.

As I leapt over the final step with a triumphant smile, sunlight pierced my eyes, forcing me to close them.

Once it was safe enough to lower them, I found myself on a near-deserted section of street with a few Bostonites busily going nowhere. But Train Jesus was nowhere to be found.

I fought off an impulse to fall on my knees and curse the heavens.

"Humidity is rising." A weary, wheezy voice whispered somewhere to my right.

"Barometer's getting low!" My mind replied, tap-dancing to the imagined tune.

Someone knew just the thing to cheer me up!

I glanced towards my unexpected song association game partner.

His wrinkly visage, gaunt expression, and strands of grey hair came right out of a fancy old silver-screen movie.

The elderly gentleman, surrounded by an assortment of umbrellas of all shapes and sizes, was a sweet gray-scale day in an exuberant splash of color on this sunny morning.

"According to all sources, the street is the place to go." The Raining Man whistled the next verse, chuckled good-naturedly, and motioned upwards.

"I wasn't actually looking for raining men, Mister. I was following Jesus, though. And I've lost the dude. Have you seen him?"

"You lost... Jesus, my child?" His eyebrows formed a question mark. "Fear not. We sometimes stray away from the path of faith, yet sooner or later... We shall be praising God for joy and abundant love, and his steadfast presence in sorrow, despair, and fear. Like any journey, the road is difficult to predict. As to your query, I have seen him, indeed. He is in all the beings that surround us..."

"No, I meant... There was a man, you see. He... He kind of looked like...  No, scratch that. I'm pretty sure I'm late for work." I rolled my eyes.

"Yet perhaps, you are right where you need to be." He motioned at his goods.

"Umm... Please don't get offended. I adore your stand! But I... I'm really not an umbrella person. Except for the ones in cocktails. If only it'd rain wine... We would not need umbrellas. I am not much into accessories, you see. Necklaces, wristwatches, handbags, umbrellas... Any kind of jewelry, really. I find them a burden."

"A burden?" He offered me a small smile. "Au contraire, mademoiselle. They can be a reassurance. Imagine, for instance, that it starts to rain. You don't have an umbrella. You know you will get wet. An umbrella trumps that fear. It offers protection, subtle encouragement, and a loving embrace. A warm smile. A shelter from the cold, unfriendly droplets."

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