Heavy Weather

“Do you have any umbrellas?” Ben asks the man behind the counter, mentally crossing his fingers.

The cashier mumbles out an “aisle five,” and Ben makes his way there.

His eyes light up upon seeing a lone umbrella in a bin at the end of the aisle, and, despite it being red and polka dotted with little frills along the edges, he will happily take what he can get. He reaches for the umbrella and just closes his hand around the top when a small hand with light pink painted fingernails lands on it as well.