My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie "Did I just say that out loud?" "Not just, dude." "When?" "Like, an hour ago. Before we had dessert." "I said it out loud to them?" "Yes." "I did?" "Yes." "In front of everyone?" "Yes, John." "Even my mom?" "Oh, yes, your mom was there." "Was she hitting the gin as heavily as I was?" "I wish I could say that, but I can't." "...and my dad?" "He...wasn't exactly thrilled, John." "Oh. ...Okay." "..." "Aaron?" "Yeah?" "Do you hate me?" "Hate you for what?" "Being stupid?" "No. No, sometimes you are a little...well, you're a huge doofus. But I can't hate you for that." "You think my parents hate me?" "I don't think so." "Okay." ...

The ancient runes told the sage that the end of the world was near. It was not an end in fire, nor an end in flood. No lightning would crack the dry skeleton of the earth, the earth that would not convulse or shudder until it split apart and the innocents disappeared through the molten cracks. No, the end was a silent end, like passing on in one's sleep - while the dreams of the old man became the eternal truth of his existence, and everything was out of order.