Sort of the fault of The Fourteen-Word Story challange; some of them didn't quite want to stay /that/ short. So here they are, the little dears.
***
The Favor
I tried to catch a falling star in my hands but it burned right through andI guess I should have been more careful. Because when it went through my hand, my heart was on the other side and
damn, but if it hadn't been broken already, I keep thinking, this would have really hurt. And I guess I'm lucky that way, because now it just looks like what it feels like, and that's okay, all right, that fits quite.
But it would have burned through M-le-boy-with-sledgehammers if I hadn't been so smitten with it's fire and shine that I had to try to make it mine, and we can't have that, oh no. And he's really nice about it all, which I suppose he ought to be, though he don't know squat. So kiss my forehead and be enlightened, doltboy.
All you ever knew about my world was that it had nothing to do with yours, but I always knew you'd carry me out of it.
So kiss my forehead, Monsieur, kiss me quick, and don't say I never did anything for you.
***
Epilouge.
Monteparnasse regarded her there, in the interim between the departure of the gaurd and the arrival of the cleaning crews.
"C'est la vie, I suppose."
He walked away down the rue mondetour with quick stiff steps. Dandies don't cry, after all.
***
A little illumination.
In one hand she held a banner, in the other a bayonet. She could hear the people sing and her vision blurred red and black. Thinking she was about to faint, her husband made to catch her; blinking with shock as she pulled away from his arms.
"Marius..." she said slowly, turning a look of oddly familiar ice upon him, "...perhaps you should have locked up those old pamphlets of yours."
And she marched off into a grave full lit by the dawn. And he wondered if the Spirit of Revolution was always blue-eyed.