Fiction
Money on the Unicorn
A short story about a boy, a girl & a poem on the wall
Busy busy little bee
History did only cost
Money on the Unicorn
Going and forever lost
On accounts of Peri.
In the tiny flat, just above the heater, in between the curls of the floral motif of the old faded wallpaper, the girl had written some words.
The boy looked at it for a moment and decided it was a poem. He wondered if it was weird that he was tracing his fingers on her wall, and quickly pulled his hand back. But he was still drawn to it; there was magic there.
Unfortunately, as not-weird, as he was trying to be, when she came back into the room — there he was, taking a Polaroid of her wallpaper.
‘For your visual diary?’, she asked, handing him a drink. The boy quietly thanked heavens she knew he was an art student but was a little saddened too. It meant that she knew all she needed to know about him and was just being polite. He had hoped she might assume he was doing a ‘real-course-that-gets-you-a-job’, for another moment or more. But there it was.
He gathered himself and straightened up. Yes, he hurt, but at least it put him at ease with her…
