My Cardboard Balcony

Éireann by Belinda Roddie "Sláinte!" says Ulster. " Sláinte!" Munster cries. " Sláinte!" shouts Leinster. " Sláinte! " she replies. The tipping of the pint glass and the tripping of the tongue. One word can sound so different in one country when you're young.

There was enough evidence to lead me to the basement of the broken down house, after seeing the shovels outside. My hands gripped the stair railings so tightly that I almost ripped them out of the wall, and I groped for a light switch as I entered the space. The smells of dust and memories came before the sights. And then I exhaled. "Good God."