Ficly

Noir: Stormy Weather

Fabrizio: The knife prods my stomach; the hand demands. I give him the balloon. He runs up the stairs. I follow him, because I must. Another man at the top pushes me back. I fall onto the stairs.

I go back to the man with the boy. “I was robbed. Please, I must have another.” He glances across the tracks; the doctor shakes his head. “I’m begging you.”

A train arrives, and a crowd swirls out of it. The train roars off; the man and boy are gone.

I climb the stairs back to the street. Clouds have appeared west of the city; they look harmless now, but by tonight the storm will be here. And I am still very well. But by tonight, when I must be at my best …

I must get more money, or life will become very bad. If Mr. Otellio knew about my sickness, The Topaz would be closed to me forever. What can I do?

What can I do?

View this story's 2 comments.