Fractured (literally) Harris Burdick Story

The cobble-stoned street was littered with last night’s celebrations. Streamers, party favors, and broken glass still had yet to be cleaned up. Meanwhile, Jean was sitting at a table, just finishing her order of a spinach and cheese omelet and decaf coffee, no foam. She looked upward, her cat eye Gucci sunglasses sliding off the bridge of her nose and pushing towards her forehead. The eggshell blue of the Venetian sky was dotted with the black outline of seagulls from the bay. This sight reminded her of one of her favorite songs, This Is the Life, by one of her favorite bands, Two Door Cinema Club. Being on vacation from school (a normal custom in Europe to go on a three week vacation every couple of months) was a gift from above. Jean knew that even with her workaholic parents and their crumbling marriage and her almost nonexistent social life, nothing could change the fact that this was starting out as one of the best days she had in a long while. She trusted that everything would work itself out.

                However, as soon as she came to this conclusion, she heard screams and sounds of buildings crashing. Jean thought that there was no construction that day, and was pulled out of her philosophical trance by curiosity. She closed her book and saw a huge ocean liner coming toward the quaint bistro she was sitting at. She could tell that even with her mighty engines in reverse, the ocean liner was pulled further and further into the canal. Knowing that she didn’t have much time to get away, she quickly gathered all of her things into her purse and started to run. Jean tripped on a shaking cobblestone and tried to get up, realizing that her new jeans had ripped and a long, bloody gash was appearing on her knee. People flooded the streets, fleeing from the destruction. They created a hole around her, enough room that she could get up and continue to her mint green Vespa. She grabbed the shiny black helmet and sped away, knowing that the trouble had only just started.