She stands there, under a dark violet umbrella, tears mixing with raindrops. They both splatter on the ground, forgotten as new ones fall.

Nobody notices her. They all pass on their merry way, either oblivious or uncaring to the young female.

She notices them, but is too lost in her own worries and troubles to care.

She is there, a small island of sadness in a sea of happiness.

She shifts slightly to avoid a forming puddle.

She sighs.

She reflects on her life as she looks in a puddle. Her mascara is running, and dripping on her shirt, blending with the dark colors.

She straigtens up and walks on, wondering if she dares to close her umbrella.

She does, ignoring the fact that her apperance will be messed up.

She leaves the umbrella on the side of the road and walks on.

Nobody spares a glance for her.

She is just another face. Another person with worries. Her own troubles.

She didn't matter anymore.

Not really.

She loves to walk in the rain, so nobody can see her crying.