Where do broken hearts go

Mara first saw Elias on a rainy Tuesday, the kind of afternoon that made the whole city look blurred around the edges.
She was standing beneath the narrow awning of a closed bakery, holding a broken umbrella and trying not to cry. The umbrella had turned inside out in the wind, her shoes were soaked, and the letter in her coat pocket felt heavier than anything she had ever carried.
It was from the man she had loved for three years.
I’m sorry, it said. You deserve someone who knows what they want.
Mara had read it so many times that the words had begun to lose their meaning. Still, they hurt.
“Your umbrella appears to have surrendered,” a voice said beside her.
She looked up. ...