My Cardboard Balcony

Swiss Army Jack by Belinda Roddie Jack jams a corkscrew into a bottle-necked nosebleeding nobody's crown, pops it off, pours wine thick enough to stop a heart from beating. Snips a flash of ribbon before it runs too quickly down the inside of his lover's infected thigh. Tightens the syringe and straps his wrist to the table, so the blade moves faster, brighter, the smell dripping off his chin, sweetening his breath, mint cells bubbling from his palm as he snaps the red-wrapped death trap shut.

“Who’s more dominant in the relationship?” “What?” She didn’t blink. “I asked you who’s more dominant in the relationship.” “Does it matter?” She shrugged. “Well, it’s just that there’s typically a male role and a female role, and…” “No. Stop. Define those roles. Please. Does the man bring home the bacon and the woman look pretty while doing the laundry?” “That’s not what I said.” “Because to answer your question, neither of us are more dominant. We both have jobs, and she and I both do housework, and we both like wearing suits and looking sexy. Kapiche?”