An umbrella away

To Elvira Skourtis (@elviguitarra)

An umbrella. The first thing that announced her presence to me was the umbrella above the wall. No matter what color or shape it was, the tempo of its walk, was unique and constant day after day.
Then, through the approximately ten centimeters between the ground and the wall, I could admire its footsteps, sometimes in boots, sometimes in tennis shoes, and on some glorious occasions, beautiful little toes greeted me from sandals during the summer.
However, the first and last thing I always saw was the umbrella. Always in the same direction: in the morning towards the corner, in the afternoon, back towards the village. Every day has been the same.
This morning I await its arrival towards the corner. I long for it like a sailor longs to see the light of the lighthouse through the storm. In my mind, the idea of ​​climbing up the wall and seeing it all, terrifies me. I have thought about it dozens of times, but I have not had the courage.
Not today either.
I thought so, but then comes the umbrella with its rhythmic movement and any other thought flees from my head like a bird out of season.
The sunlight reaches her feet gently despite the umbrella. I know this because two small shadows of footsteps sneak in under the wall. I get out of the comfort of my seat and dare to walk beside her. An exciting tingle runs through my whole body. It's exciting to imagine walking beside her. She looks at the ground and I notice her shadow and above it, the swing of the umbrella that suddenly stops. Does she know that I'm on the other side of the wall, just a few centimeters away from her? An umbrella away?
The mere idea that she has discovered me makes me sweat. Does she know what I'm doing? Does she know of my dreams of a family with her? That I have the house decorated with umbrellas, that I have invested a fortune in umbrella decorations?
I stand still, barely able to look up just in time to see the umbrella come down. With fear I move away from the wall. With fear I look back with even greater fear to see a woman's face watching me. But no. Today is one of those days that remain forever in memory. Today is the day I can delight my eyes with the image of angel fingers descending almost to the ground to fasten a pair of shoes.
Today is the day I cover myself with a cheap armor of courage and lower my hand to the ground. Very carefully, so she doesn't notice, I briefly touch the silhouette of her hand, and I am happy.
Then the umbrella returns to its place above and resumes its swinging. Tomorrow will be a new day. Perhaps, the day I make up my mind and jump over the wall to see the owner of that umbrella, of those feet, fingers and of each one of my sighs.
Perhaps tomorrow. For now, I'll go to the corner store later and buy another umbrella for the house.

_{This post is AI free. image created on Canva. this is a translate.}