My Cardboard Balcony

Free Music on the Ground Floor by Belinda Roddie He bought four harmonicas, cedar-odor cases for each, and gave them to his kids so they could trill a buzz as thick and sweet as the whiskey poured into their landlord's glass on a sticky June-uary evening. His wife guzzled lemon water to stave off the headache bubbling like carbonation, as the growl of slotted metal overpowered the wheezing springs in the apartment's one couch, its cushioned eyes sagging more and more with tired age. Some day, he'd pull the banjo out and accompany his children in a tune that was carved into a stump by his father when his last hope for livelihood was saved by the warbling guttural courage of his kin, as they provided free music on the ground floor of the dust town's oldest hotel, with bass and tin and brass frets on a mandolin, the coffee cold but the cotton smiles bright, as sweat made the strings rust faster but the voices rise higher to the breath of southern ...

The emergency meeting had, of course, been unplanned, so the constant whining of the counselor was more than uncalled for. He only shut up about his ruined schedule for a fancy dinner and board game night when the High Chieftain raised a stave up in a gesture of "Can it now, or I'm swatting you under the nose with it." "Now," the chieftain said as the counselor snapped his trap shut, "we are here for a very serious reason."

There Are No Queers In Letherton by Belinda Roddie There are no queers in Letherton; at least, that's what they say. They dim the neon on the streets so the colors don't shine the way they're meant to. They keep patrols out looking for strangers holding hands in an unorthodox grip. They hold crucifixes, demanding that salvation matches the outdated text. There was "one" queer in Letherton, but they say she left years ago. She found a cream heart swirled in her coffee, brewed by a worker with curls. Curls she kissed before retreating to a warm, non-discerning bed. They say she left, but they won't mention the word "DYKE" etched into her arm. With a knife wielded by the mayor's son, no less. The clubs are loud and lively on Fridays, and one thing is perfectly clear: When you step onto the silver floor, there is a wavering glimpse of something human beneath the dampened lights. There is color hidden within heavy coats, a ...

"Profits have nearly doubled since Allison took over as store manager," my assistant manager was informing our district manager. "Not only that, but workers can now receive more hours on payroll. And you want to demote her?" "I'm sorry, but it's just what I have to do." "Bullshit, it's what you have to do," spat the assistant manager. "You're just pissed off that Allison got the promotion and your cousin didn't, despite your cousin being abysmally underqualified."

They apprehend me, they cuff me, and they leave me in a room with new windows and a locked door. I find myself drawn to the corner, where the shadows cool my face off just right, as my wrists shake beneath the weight of shackles that I didn't even think the authorities had around anymore. The air is stuffy, yet very cold at the same time. It tightens the air in my larynx, dries out my voice, and leaves me nearly mute. Which is probably exactly what they wanted.

by Belinda Roddie Alexandria Morgan Richter was, perhaps, the most selfish girl to ever walk the earth. At least, that's what I thought. Or what I thought based on several classmates' testimony. Alexandria was two years my senior, but that didn't stop the vitriol even from the freshmen at the university who had barely even gotten to know her within three months. Therefore, it was more than surprising for me when, as I sat upright in my hospital bed, scrolling through Tumblr on the tablet that my mother had provided me during my recovery, that she cautiously traipsed into my room, a bouquet of flowers tucked under one arm and a box of chocolates clenched in the opposite fist. "Um...hello." I suppose she had expected me to be asleep or distracted by a nurse or someone else in the room, because she quickly averted her eyes, dropped off her gifts on the nearest table, mumbled a raspy, "Feel better," and hurried out of my room in half the time i...

"It's entirely plausible that the Council will be uneasy about letting us leave so early," Mistress Kor murmured as she made to refill her glass. "Ever since our arrival, tensions between the factions have...loosened, to put it casually." Arvey couldn't quite understand why. A gang of travelers, bent on marking and documenting uncharted or unconquered territory, couldn't possibly have that much of an effect on such a troubled town.