The sun was out and the skies were clear…somewhere.  Here, however, it was grey as a dirty Goodyear radial without a whitewall.  Everything was wet – it wasn’t raining but there was a dampness like the earth was in a cold sweat because she knew what the day held.

And the sounds were gone.  The moisture soaked up the vibration and everything was dull and muffled.  There was action. But it was a television with the volume turned down… or seen from another room…or maybe broken altogether.

Don stood on the corner at the park watching the traffic light change; not seeing the colors.  He unconsciously shrugged deeper into his wind breaker.  He should have worn something heavier but hadn’t thought about it, wasn’t thinking about it now.  He was lost elsewhere…supposition…maybe suspicion…no, thought, yes it was thought.

Ann was upset.  They had been seeing each other exclusively for eight months.  Well, they saw other things like traffic lights and ice cream trucks, but not other people.  Actually, they saw other people, they just didn’t see people of the opposite sex.  Naturally, they saw them, but…well, you know.  Things had been going great and Don was beginning to think she was the one.  She was perfect.  She was pretty, thoughtful and caring.  Ann made the best strawberry preserves in the state and in the bedroom she was, well, a little messy, what with the strawberry preserves but…  She could bake a mean lasagna, fix a crumpled pick up fender and her theories on astrophysics were well known.  They had so much in common – he liked lasagna, too.

So why was she mad…angry…maybe upset?  Was it infidelity?  Inconsideration?  Some other “in” word?

Don couldn’t figure it.

She was fine when they met for lunch a couple days ago.  She had rambled on about the new spring fashions and their application as casual handball wear.  He was positive he hadn’t snored but couldn’t be sure his eyes hadn’t glazed over.  He hadn’t said anything and he didn’t forget to leave a tip or pay the bill.  No, that wasn’t it.

It began to drizzle and Don lifted his hood.  A cop watching him for signs of vagrancy frowned and drove off.  Apparently standing catatonic in the rain with your hood up is not a vagrant activity, even if you do have one foot in a puddle.  Don didn’t notice.  He was still lost.

Things seemed alright when they went to dinner and the monster truck opera on Friday.  They talked about crocheting and the new automobile models, quantum physics and the existence of invisible matter in the universe.  He loved conversing with Ann.  After all, he liked crocheting, too.

Everything had been fine…good…even okay, but…  She was cool when he took her home.  She didn’t kiss him goodnight.  She slammed the door in his face and he heard the bolts “click” into place.  That was unusual – she usually didn’t use all the locks.

So whatever it was, it had happened that night.  She didn’t eat her pie at coffee before they went home and didn’t say much after…  Wait!  He had commented on her hair.  It was odd, he had thought, but he didn’t actually say how he felt about it.  What did he say…?  “Unusual”, he had called it.  That was actually a euphemism…an understatement…a lie.  No, it was a euphemism.

He wanted to tell her that it looked like a half of a Princess Leia, like a bun on an old lady with no sense of balance.  She looked like she should lean to one side so she didn’t fall over.  But he didn’t say these things.  She was still beautiful, after all.  It was a temporary thing, a surface affect and it wasn’t important.

Besides, he should have known better than to make a non-positive comment about the way she looked.  There were, after all, rules which applied to these things:  you don’t ask a woman how old she is, you don’t degrade her clothing or her hair and you never say anything about weight.

Somewhere in the distance a church bell was ringing.  The sound filtered its way past Don’s reverie…remembrance…reflection.  He looked up in time to see Ann walking toward him, a thin fence of water dripping off her umbrella , separating her from the light rain.  It was like a welded wire fence…actually, it was more like a picket fence – with some boards missing.  Of course, there were no cross-support rails or…  Aw, jeez, it was just water!

Don looked into her eyes.  “Hi” was all he said.

“Hello, Don”, she said, more in reply than in greeting, her eyes focused on the ground in front of her.  He stood outside the umbrella, outside her space, and looked in at her.

“Ann, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I certainly didn’t want you to take it that way.  I…I was outta line and I apologize.”

“It’s alright,” she said, her eyes lifting, her face softening.  “I shouldn’t have been so sensitive.  I just thought you didn’t like the way I looked.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he said, honestly taken aback by the idea.  “I love the way you look.  It’s just that it was…different, is all.”

She lifted the front of her umbrella and he stepped inside her personal shelter.  They shared a smile as the relief rushed through each of them and their eyes locked as the tension subsided.

Don stepped close to her.  He lowered his hood and reached around her.  Ann looked into his face.  Her eyes widened and her eyebrows arched as she leaned back to broaden her view.

“That looks like a crew-cut!  Did you get a haircut or join the Marines!”