My Cardboard Balcony

A Bronzed Peppermint Bowl by Belinda Roddie "A bronzed peppermint bowl," my grandma said when I asked what my Christmas gift was for, and I loved it. I never put any other candy besides peppermint in the beautiful vessel. My sister thought it was silly, but after our grandma died, the bowl became more sentimental than ever before. When I got older, and my daughter had children, they would come to visit me and hear my stories. Each time they sat down in the living room, I offered them a peppermint from the bowl. They always thanked me for the little treat, which, with the mem'ry of Grandma, was sweet.

"I'm a celebrity here? Why am I a celebrity here?" "They heard all about what you did to that one bitchy customer," Harriet replied with a smile, undoing the fraying knot that held her apron against the curved part of his back. "You know, the one who always cut in line and claimed the manager was an ugly dyke? She hasn't been back since. You're a hero now." "Huh." I pursed my lips. "Does that mean I get a hero's discount now every time I want a bowl of noodles?"