My Cardboard Balcony

My White Kettle by Belinda Roddie My white kettle never brewed tea, didn't like water and never loved me.

It was the cat's meow. The bee's knees. The hip of hooch in a zoot suit's steps. Andre had never been happier to have prom be nineteen twenties themed. He dressed in his best suit and learned the Charleston. He walked in hoping to snag a flapper girl. He had gone stag, obviously, as his date was not exactly a fan of Great Gatsby. She'd have to learn, old sport. She'd have to learn.