A White Umbrella as seen by Ice
Let me start by saying I tend to view myself as a harmless or maybe neutral force of nature.
Let us begin: I saw a woman with a white umbrella cross the street. A passing car mistook her for me. But what could that woman know of the cold, to be truly cold is to feel it across miles—not in the cozy home of their tiny chests, such fragile things they are.
I remember the Ice Age. I bet that white umbrella doesn't remember the Ice Age. Not that the car could have known that. Cars are stupid when it comes to ice ages and umbrellas.
So when the car screeched and the umbrella turned red, I thought, "Good riddance." There can only be one of me.
*Subject and POV drawn from a hat by first co-lab-er; then passed around the group*