My Cardboard Balcony

I Wish by Belinda Roddie "I wish I were as brave as you," she whispered to my sweater sleeve, the wool scratching a streaming nose, the fireside biting at our feet. "You will be," I breathed into her hair, and I tossed an arm forward and caught her heart before it fell in the form of salt. "I promise."

The film's director went outside to answer questions from some of her frostbitten fans, who had hovered around the corners of the movie theater just dying to see her face. She had done something truly remarkable with cinema - something an old rival found disconcerting. "There's a reason why women have only one Best Director Oscar to their name," he scowled over a glass of Tullamore Dew. "Because they don't get the film world. So why do they care about her so much?" "Nice one, asshole," grunted the bartender.