A large painting. The caption says:
Paris Street; Rainy Day
1877
Gustave Caillebotte

It depicts a street corner in drizzly Paris. The figures dominating the foreground are a man and a woman strolling together under a single umbrella. The scene feels so real, it’s as though the couple might step out of the painting at any moment. In the background are passers-by hurrying about with their umbrellas, their shoulders hunched in the cold. The wet cobblestones are gleaming softly in the winter afternoon light.

This is supposed to be a bitterly cold, wintry streetscape, but there’s a mysterious warmth enveloping the scene. I wonder why. I assume it’s the intimacy of the couple ─ the focal figures of this painting ─ that is radiating a subtle warmth towards us.

Perhaps something caught their attention; the couple are looking in the same direction with a gentle expression on their faces. The woman’s orange tinted lips are curved into a smile, while the pearl on her left ear emits a snow-white glow.

Her lips and the pearl earring are tiny details within a large picture plane. But even so, there was no doubt that the two pure colors made the entire image shine.

Sari stood in front of the painting, completely frozen. It looked like she was inside the painting, talking to the couple. I watched with bated breath. Then, I realized Sari was crying.

I bent down and gently placed my hand on Sari’s shoulder as she sobbed.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered into her ear.
After wiping her tears with the sleeve of her coat, Sari replied, “I should have lent my umbrella.”

Sari had a crush on a boy. He’s called Liam. When other boys say mean things to Sari, he gets worked up and stands up for her. It seems that Sari couldn’t stop thinking about him lately.

One day, just as everyone was about to go home from school, a cold rain started to fall. And when Sari was about to leave with an umbrella brought by her nanny, she spotted Liam leaving alone in the rain without an umbrella. His big sister usually comes to pick him up, but on that day, she hadn’t come. Liam must’ve got tired of waiting and left by himself. Sari almost offered him her umbrella, but she was too nervous to do so.

The next day, Liam didn’t come to school. Sari was extremely worried. The day after that, Liam was in the classroom. Sari was so relieved that she admired his side profile the whole day. But from that day on, she kept thinking that she should have lent him her umbrella. That she should’ve shared the umbrella on their way home like the people in the painting.

“I see,” I smiled softly.
“There’s another way of saying ‘sharing an umbrella’ in Japanese. Do you know it?”
“No, I don’t,” Sari said, her nose reddened. “What is it?”
I grinned and replied, “It’s called ai-ai-gasa. ‘Love love umbrella .’”
Sari’s face beamed with a smile like a lace handkerchief.
“Love love umbrella ,” Sari repeated.
Filled with affection, I hugged Sari tightly.

Sari, that feeling you’ve recently discovered, is called love.
In my arms, Sari was still a little girl. But I wanted to congratulate her for developing those warm feelings we call first love.

Someday, you too will share an umbrella with someone.
Until then, let’s stick together.

Snow was falling outside. It was the start of a white Christmas.