We were glumly unfurling our cheap little umbrella, preparing to venture out and maybe see another movie, when we were approached by a prosperous-looking middle-age Indian man in a beautiful, rain-spattered gray suit. He walked up to us, beaming.
“Will you give me your umbrella?” he asked blandly.
“What? No,” said my boyfriend, somewhat taken aback. “If you want one, you can buy them right there”—he indicated the vendor hawking black umbrellas for three dollars a few feet away—“but we need this one.”
The man’s grin did not abate. If anything, it widened.
“But I’m the baby!” he shouted. “You have to take care of the baby!”
And he bounded away.
As Fred Astaire would have said, rain or not, the sun was suddenly shining everywhere.