The Black Umbrella

It was raining hard. A girl stood at the bus stop. She had no umbrella, and her hair was wet.

An old man waited too. He had a big black umbrella. He looked at the girl, then walked over.

“Here,” he said. “Take it.”

“But you?” the girl said.

The man smiled. “My bus is here. I'm fine.”

He got on the bus. The girl held the umbrella. It was warm and dry under it. She watched the bus go.

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It was raining hard. A girl stood at the bus stop. She had no umbrella, and her hair was wet.

An old man waited too. He had a big black umbrella. He looked at the girl, then walked over.

“Here,” he said. “Take it.”

“But you?” the girl said.

The man smiled. “My bus is here. I'm fine.”

He got on the bus. The girl held the umbrella. It was warm and dry under it. She watched the bus go.