My Cardboard Balcony

When Cheese Isn't Enough by Belinda Roddie What sad soul came up with that? What do you do when cheese isn't enough? Do they just eat slices of plastic American in between long spells of hibernation? What do you do - cheese is always enough! Nothing like a curt Pepper Jack to go with that nightly glass of riesling or white zinfandel; a serene Gruyere in onion soup to soothe an aching head with a strong cider in frost. The sharp Cheddar swelling in bubbly broth on french bread just broiled in the toaster oven you have sandwiched between the coffee maker and the refrigerator. The king of the world should have every helping of Swiss curdled bliss. Happy Havarti with a greens garnish. Melted Mozzarella smothered beneath oodles of olive oil and diced tomatoes. Blessed Brie with crackers. Gouda-laden macaroni. Asiago bagels. And every variety of goat's generosity. Anywhere you go, it follows you - the aged splendors in Paris with baguettes, the wonder

The railroad tracks had been there longer than I could ever imagine, but no trains rolled on it these days. Not since the fire choked the station with its smoldering fingers and dragged the wooden splinters into the dirt. The frame was strangely intact, but inside, it was gutted. Completely gutted. No one had attempted to bring the trains back. And as such, I intended to travel south on those abandoned tracks.