My Cardboard Balcony

Stanley would have preferred it if he had never seen Howard again, but of course it couldn't work out that way. He caught a glimpse of him, dressed in that old blue suit that he hated, sipping a stiff martini, propped against the bar at Lorena and Xiu's wedding reception. Stanley blinked slowly at first, then desired something to drink. But in order to get said drink, he had to slip into Howard's periphery.

by Belinda Roddie One am Only the insomniacs hear the whispers in the walls. Can you hear them, too? It starts with a lot of scratching. Like a cat trying to paw its way into your room, noiselessly wailing at the closed door. Noiselessly wailing. You can't hear the sound, but you can. You  can. You can. I have listened to these whispers for twenty years. For a while, I didn't think it was in my tongue. Slowly, though, I have grown to understand the words. I know one phrase they always utter, incompletely, without an ending. "Did you know? Did you know? Did you know that Two am only the insomniacs hear the whispers in the walls? We have messages for them. All of them. The first is this: Don't go to sleep. Sleep brings about dreams. Dreams are only fragments of a reality you wish you had. There are ghosts in dreams. The dead return in dreams. You fall in love with the wrong people in dreams. Kiss them in dreams. Fornicate with them in dreams. Have their ba...

Rowan had more than just a few tricks up her sleeve. When the men tried to woo her, her counter flirting completely threw them off guard. She was so poised, so suave, and so comfortable with herself that every dude who wanted to get into her pants at the pub just lowered her red face into the overwhelmingly white suds of his cheap beer. And then a lovely lady wearing curls would sashay by, and that was when Rowan put more of her tricks to use.

I love my life. I mean it. I love so much about it. The people, where I live, the technology we have, even the culture, despite the gross politics and the uphill climb for certain people's lives and aspirations. But I especially love the nuances. All the little quirks and details that I never imagined would be part of my life but are. I never thought I would want to be a teacher until I was in college. Yet, here I am, teaching English and Social Studies at a one-on-one school, and getting my credential while working at a high school. I never thought that my sister would be in Philadelphia with a British boyfriend. Who knew? Who really knew? But it's awesome that adventure is out there, and though I'd prefer for the two of them to still be in California, I love them and how well they're doing. I never thought I'd be gay and marrying the absolute love of my life. Never came to mind. Not until I was seventeen. I never thought I'd go to Ireland. I never ...

I Hate Being Homeless by Belinda Roddie As he slept, his middle finger remained outstretched and rigid.

All that was left of City Hall was a lonely stack of bricks, left behind by one demolition group or another. The men had come in swarms, yellow-helmeted and orange-jacketed, like drone bees from a hive, ready to raze the building. The dust literally cleared about six hours after demolition had started, and I had watched the whole thing from my bedroom window, sipping a strong cup of coffee.

There Were Five by Belinda Roddie There were five women at the eatery, munching and crunching and drinking red wine as dark and foamy as the velvet sea. Two seemed to be in love, and that was fine. The other three appeared to be dismayed at the small portions on their plates. They sighed and buzzed, yet still the oaken Cabernet flowed on and on into their glasses. By the time my wife and I finished dessert, two bottles had been drained, innards consumed, while the two lovers cooed and did not blurt out obscene rants like their friends. I assumed that they would stay much longer once the rest were gone, and for them, that was for the best.