My Cardboard Balcony

Yes, Again by Belinda Roddie Yes, again. I want to try it all over again. I want to sip whiskey from a mug instead of a shotglass. I want fireworks instead of campfires, hot peppers instead of s'mores. I want to abandon California and climb up to Cusco, where the air is thin, but the atmosphere is fresh and, though simple, the struggle is soulful. I want to discard first world problems, cut the cable of my laptop fantasies, read more books, drink more nectar, stow away on ships, smuggle salt, and light a thousand fuses to go off simultaneously in ten thousand brains. Because once everything short-circuits, I will be the only flare left alive. Though I do need to check my Tumblr first before my emotional, detached adventure. I'm sure it won't delay me much.

"I have him wrapped around my littlest finger," said Rosa as she repeatedly clasped and unclasped the locks on the briefcase in a fit of compulsive attitude. "He'll never know what to expect, or what not to expect. His future will be nothing but static and white noise. And it will terrify him." Warren nodded slowly, rubbing the stubble on his upper lip with his thumb. He knew never to question Rosa, as she was almost always right. Except for the times when everyone was wrong.