My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie ‎"Hey, wasn't there a dingo in here a minute ago?" "No." "I could've sworn there was a dingo. It looked like a dingo. It had pointy ears and big teeth." "John, go back to bed." "I'm serious. Or maybe it was a hyena. Aaron, do you know what hyenas look like compared to dingos?" "Go to bed." "You're not answering my question." "I don't have an answer." "..." "..." "..." "...No. I don't know what hyenas look like compared to dingos." "Well, you're no help." "John, can you please just go back to sleep?" "Not now. There's a mystery to be solved." "What mystery?" "The mystery of the dingo I just saw." "There is no dingo, John." "What?" "I said there is no dingo." "There is no dingo? What're you

It was a comfort thinking I couldn't screw up. Ever. But an extra fifty dollars in the cash register when I was done with my shift? That wasn't right. Discomfort isn't necessarily what you feel when you're guilty. Sometimes the discomfort arrives when you realize you're innocent, but you're not in the clear. That's how I feel right now. I could protest all I want that someone skimmed the stupid register incorrectly. But that may not change minds.