Daedalus and Icarus

“Icarus fell because he wanted something that was bigger than he was. He tried to reach his sun because that’s what he wanted. I don’t want to be Icarus, Nadia. I can’t have you and my job, because you’re so much bigger than that. My number’s there if you need me.”

He slid his hands into his pocket, looking around the park. Nadia stood quickly, hands trembling as she held the envelope to her chest. The wind was icy against her face, and she looked down, bracing herself against the cold. Matt relaxed, looking up the path he was about to walk down.

“I’ll come back if you call,” he promised, dragging his bag back onto his shoulder. “Just leave a blank message and I’ll know who it is, I swear.”

Concise.

This actually got published: In "Ninety-Nine: The Best Short Writing of Tasmanian Secondary College Students."

He just wishes the rain would stop.

They've been standing here for hours, like bloody penguins in their suits, sobbing like it's the end of the world.

They're pathetic, he thinks bitterly, as he flicks the end of his cigarette, watching the ash disolve into nothing as it's hit by the rain. The rookie glares at him through red-ringed eyes, and he looks back down, staring blankly at the grave of their once-boss.

The rain beats down heavier than before, plastering his hair to the side of his neck, as he silently contemplates the dry-cleaning bill for his suit.

Magical Mystical Statue of Doom.

She set the figure down on the counter gently, groping through her bag for her wallet as the shopkeeper came to the counter, wiping his big hands on a cloth.

"How much?"

He looked over at her, blankly. "You're the first person in ten years to take interest in that old thing, kid. Why you want it?"

"Erm," She glanced up, perplexed. "I... don't actually know."

"It's yours, then."

"Pardon?"

He laughed. "Ten years ain't done that thing any favors. 'Sides, I'm starting to think it's cursed or something."

She cocked an eyebrow, and he sighed. "Look, last guy that wanted that thing was a collector. Before that... nothin'. Not even the people who made the thing wanted to keep it. Frankly, I don't want it in my shop. I'd rather it was with someone who wanted it."

"But I--"

"Kid," he started, setting his hands down on the counter. "I don't believe in them stories that the guys who sell these tell, but I think it chose you. For what, I dunno. Just take it -- 'Sworthless to me, anyway."

The girl nodded her thanks, grabbing the statue and shoving it back into her bag, before walking out.