My Cardboard Balcony

A Jester Stood by Belinda Roddie A jester stood atop the pinnacle of a skyscraper in Chicago haze, picking up wind in sound cylindrical bursts. When the moon came out, its pearly gaze made the foppish belled man easy to see. All the tourists stopped and stared, quite enthralled, but the citizens walked by carelessly and did not slow to view the spectacle. Many asked how on earth he could balance on the monstrous and shining monolith. Would he lose footing and perhaps by chance in mere minutes fall quickly to his death? And who was the true fool? The jester high above their heads, or people asking why?

"This day's been a grind." "Grind...grind. I've heard that word before." "Yeah, I'm sure you have." "No," interjected Randy, "I mean it means something. Like something from my past. Something that's been haunting me for ages." Alan blinked. He was a co-worker of Randy's at the deli. Not a therapist. "Like...the Daily Grind coffee shop down the street?" "No," replied Randy. "Too easy."