155 words, crisper-style

[rone]

Brigitte's ocular servos rotated until her lenses focused on the shape in front of her.  "Boris?  You have interrupted my recharge cycle."

"I did, Brigitte, but as you can see, we are in trouble."  Boris extended a ferrous arm towards Brigitte as he extended the other towards the windows at the top of the basement where they were.  Water was gushing in at a prodigious rate.

"The dam," said Brigitte.  "Our estimates were too optimistic."

"And the Creator punished us by leaving us behind while he escaped."  Boris's voice betrayed no emotion, as it was unable to convey more than a neutral conversational inflection.

"We shall cease to function once the water fills the room," said Brigitte.

Boris took her in his arms, their bodies clanking gently as they met.  "If i am to cease functioning, i wish to spend every last moment with you."

"Oh, Boris, you know how to make my gyros wobble."

—— 
For consideration: "The city's aflood / and our love turns to rust"

Comments

Where the Streets Are Waterways

[lammah.livejournal.com]

Aside from the turgid U2 tune in your playlist, a very pithy bit of prose there.