My Cardboard Balcony

Crimelight by Belinda Roddie I lit a cigarette and pulled my winter collar to my chin, waving away the pastel aurora borealis from my weary woven brow. A crooked hand signaled for the Jeep in front of me to turn its axles repeatedly inward - sleek steel bones cranking out an old stereo sound as it dipped its nose in the white blossoming drift. Fifty miles away, a dozen cars gathered by the marsh with bottles blazing blue in the cool projectory of twin helicopter blades. The body dragged from the swamp was brown and calm and surreal.

"There's a skull in the trunk of your car." "I know. It's a vampire skull." "...Is that why there's glitter in the back, too?" "Pssh, no. That's Twilight shit. That's not actually true." "Oh. Then what is it?" "Well, you know how vampires tend to explode into ash when the sun goes down?" "...So they explode in glitter and you still got the skull?" "...Yeah, I guess my story isn't too plausible now, is it?"