My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie She hesitated outside the door before finally deciding to simply walk in. The winter air scuttled in with her on frosted legs, wrapping the room in an igloo cocoon, as Arvey drew her coat closer around her frame. Mistress Kor's hopes for her to become huskier and more toned muscularly had been fulfilled somewhat; the girl still needed meat on some parts of her anatomy, but she was becoming fuller with each travel, rather than thinner, against the elements and the beasts. The shoreline house that the group now settled in was owned by the Crusader, who in his retirement was more a Fisherman with a capital F (more the Fisher, in Arvey's mental notes). He was more than happy to let the bloodied Quinoni, the haggard Barkelee, and the ever undisturbed Kor into his residence to stay for a week of rest. The amount of poise and composure that the professor had collected through assumedly years of experience was not something to cluck one's tongue at. Arvey alwa...

So I got a pair of boots. They were tall and they were black. They had buckles gleaming on the sides and zippers down the back. When I walked in my new boots, the heels made dents on the street. Several gentlemen tried to follow me, but they couldn't take the heat. When my boots touched the asphalt, there was fire in the air, and it lingered on my eyelashes and danced across my hair. I felt hot in these new boots, and what luck I really had, to have shiny boots to show off, and a super wealthy dad.