The rain poured heavily upon me, my black umbrella my only source of shelter as the rain washed away all that was left in its care. Children’s chalk drawings, large piles of fall leaves— the careful calligraphy etched in black inside a curiously abandoned journal. Heartfelt confessions, tragedies, and daily routines, now nothing more than blotches of ink between soaked pieces of paper. Documents of memories now literally fading away. I wonder how one could lose something so precious. Maybe they left it in an attempt to rid themselves of it. Hopefully in old age the writer will recall the stories that shaped them. Living within this forgotten vessel.