There's something delightful about three loving chemistry students (friends) squeezing under one umbrella after a midterm exam, trying to stay dry as they make their way to a dorm to fetch another umbrella. They know well that their cozy arrangement (this squeezing, this loving, this closeness) isn't going to work for long, especially on the way to lunch.

This amusing scenario happened to me and two friends as we headed to Sanfilippo, a dorm, to grab another umbrella. The one I had on me was far from adequate for a party our size. In addition, it was the elegant but impractical kind, caving with each drop of rain and utterly useless against the wind. And, of course, the wind came.

We took the elevator to the second (or third) floor, sharing laughs while nervously eyeing the old, clunky elevator that was in serious need of maintenance. But who takes the stairs when there’s an elevator?

Not us.

Upon arrival, my umbrella-fetching friend hurried to his room and returned with an entire backpack (context: he almost never brings his backpack to class, just his iPad, a notebook, and, I believe, some pens). We headed back down the elevator (making the most of our resources or just being lazy) and stepped outside.

Resting under the awning as it was quite apparent the rain hadn’t let up, I prepared my umbrella, the sky-patterned and dazzlingly useful thing it was, before my friend looked over at my umbrella-grabbing friend (now “friend who should also have an umbrella on them”), his backpack slung over one shoulder and not the other, and asked, “Where’s your umbrella?

He patted his pockets (as if an umbrella could fit in there), checked his backpack, and then let out a weary laugh, saying, "I... I think I left it in my room.”