That afternoon I saw her on the street. She had a yellow coat on and pink raining boots. Her big bright green umbrella made her look even more funny. But she was beautiful. Her face was alight as she smiled and as she jumped in the puddles her hair blew in the wind like a willow tree. I was sitting across the street on a bench waiting for my three o’ clock bus to arrive. While watching her I even forgot the rain falling down on me. The newspaper I was holding above me was soggy and tearing but I didn’t mind. Because when she looked at me she smiled and made a gesture like a soldier greeting his commander. I laughed. She was pretty, alright. I tried to gather the courage to talk to her. She was waiting for someone outside the cake shop. She looked at me again and I couldn’t help looking away. I finally stood up to walk over the road. But she was gone. I watched her walk away with her friend, a young girl shorter and stubbier than her. I hoped to see her again. I did. That night I saw her on the news.