My Cardboard Balcony

The Colonel by Belinda Roddie The colonel wrote a letter to her wife with her back against an exhausted oak, contemplating the closing of her life as missiles fell and thick gunpowder choked the air. Her men were falling one by one, and her leg ached from wounds she could not tend. She pushed her cap back, remembered her gun, and kept scribbling away until the end. They found her body slumped against the tree, blood still trickling, and yet, a smile stayed upon her face. They cleared all the debris and carried her to a place by the bay where her wife found her letter - torn and stained, but readable, expressing love and pain.

"Hey, I'd like the fried chicken plate, please." "No problem. Mashed potatoes?" "Yes, please. And corn." "$9.99, please." "Whoa! Whooooaaa. That's a bit pricey, my friend." "It's...been this price for almost nine years, sir." "Still, though...$9.99. That's almost, like...ten bucks." "...So do you not want your chicken, sir?" "No, no, I'll take it! Just...everything's so expensive, man." "...Uh-huh."