My Cardboard Balcony

Cobweb Pipe by Belinda Roddie The smoke was dust, and the ash nothing but clumps of crying lint lying languid on the too plush carpet, as Graham emptied pouch upon pouch of the most expensive tobacco, only to have it taste the same every time - like death.

For what seemed like the thousandth time, Roy checkmated Shane. Shane couldn't make sense of it. She had calculated every move perfectly, down to the very last pawn. Every strategy, every technique, boiled and bubbled and brought to one big, frothy formula - worth nothing after Roy's deft stroke of deliverance. Shane looked at the board and clicked her tongue. "You're a little bitch, McTannie," she scowled.