UNGER AND URSULA
MICRO STORY
Unger urgently ushered Ursula under the umbrella. The rain came in sheets, deafening against the umbrella.
“Let’s go!” he yelled as they moved toward the vestibule. The pigeons, too, had scattered, leaving soggy piles of seed behind. Soon, the rain would wash the seed into the canal where the gondolas rocked and bumped with the waves.
“Where is it?” asked Unger, placing the umbrella upside down on the tiled floor.
“I have it. I have it. Be patient.”
“Like the rain?!”
“Yes, Unger, ‘like the rain’.” Ursula pulled a cherry-red box from her jacket. The lacquered wood shined under the gas lamps.
“Twentythousand Euros.”
“Twen...That’s double”, Unger said, surprised. “Yes, well, I was not expecting rain and these boots are expensive.”
Unger stepped from the safety of
the vestibule into the rain. Piazza di San Marco was blue-grey as the sun slipped from the sky, leaving only the clouds. Glass tables puddled with water throughout the square and Unger noticed the top of a piano had been left open in haste. Unger’s hands glowed orange. Only the veins and edges of his fingers at first, like placing a flashlight to the palm to see it glow. Strings of light grew from his finger tips next and Ursula reached for the umbrella. “We are not children anymore, Ursula,” Unger said, raising his hands, “and I no longer appreciate your games.”
Ursula’s eyes grew wide, and the air around her crackled and hummed. “Unger! Unger, no... plea...”
The sound of the rain stopped,
and Unger, arms out as if crucified, released a ball of orange and white energy toward the vestibule. Ursula’s pleas silenced along with the rain, and in a flash, she was no more. Unger’s hands returned to his side, no longer glowing as the rain returned, harder than before.
Soaked, Unger knelt by Ursula’s pile of lifeless clothes and retrieved the red box from her jacket. “Ah Ursula.
It really is a shame about the boots.”