My Cardboard Balcony

Lucy Was Wearing Green Velvet by Belinda Roddie Lucy was wearing green velvet at her brother's funeral, meshing with the sad dark stalks of grass that brushed fingers against the cold, black coffin just before the men let it descend into its deep chasm just several feet beneath the mourners. Lucy held her mother's hand. No tears came. She ignored her father's set jaw. She tried to watch the clouds above become flowers or horses, but the sun got in the way and cast a harsh glare on the ebony surface of the boy's final resting place. She wore green to match her dear brother's eyes, but not once at the service did she cry.

"This won't be a hassle?" "Nah," chewed Rodrigo, nomming at the bent cigarette that was turning to liquid ash in his mouth. "No hassle. No pressure. No mess." Dr. Simeon leaned forward against his desk, his bad knee shrieking against the wooden frame. "You're sure?" "Oh, yeah," Rodrigo lilted. "We can do this no problem."