“Come fast!” she urged as she ran quickly towards the shelter. They had to shout to make themselves heard while the rain poured down and thundered on the crude tin roof. Her non-stop banter was like the rain, he mused. Refreshing and evergreen. There was not a moment dull, when they were together. They were at the theme park he had promised to take her a couple of months ago. He sipped scalding hot chai while she savored an ice candy bar. Orange flavored. It always was orange. Was there a tinge of orange on her lips? He wondered.
Today, when the rain poured down over a cluster of black umbrellas that had mushroomed, he wondered if her lips were orange. They must be orange for sure, he decided as he played with the dirt. It was an unusual thought to ponder upon, at her funeral.