My Cardboard Balcony

As most of you know by now, I have a problem with anxiety. Keep in mind that it doesn't always result in a panic attack or a meltdown (though, yes, that has happened occasionally, sometimes without warning). It's more of an obsessive anxiety, a kind that can only be solved by distraction, not reason. I happen to have what one may call "unproductive anxiety." See, my theory is that if the thing you are anxious about can be fixed and/or controlled by you, as in the person having said anxiety, then it's productive anxiety. Anxious about writing a good essay? You always have the power to rewrite, edit, and critique. That's productive anxiety. Anything you worry about that cannot be controlled from where you are standing (or sitting. Or kneeling. Or whatever) is unproductive anxiety. It's the kind of anxiety that cripples your happiness, tears you away from healthy socializing, and pretty much spoils your day. My brain is brimming with unproductive anxiety

"Caramel Kisses" is an unfinished novel I began to write back in 2009 and stopped working on in 2010. The two main characters - Adriana Maguire Reynard and Emma Burking - would ultimately be revised for my later completed novella, "The Liffey Is Half-Asleep," in 2011. Several elements of "Liffey" can be found in their original forms in "Caramel Kisses," such as the characters' names, the haiku scene, and Adriana's penchant for writing. Because of its influence on my later writing, I figured that this story, though incomplete, was worth sharing. Caramel Kisses: Chapter Twenty-Five by Belinda Roddie Robert met with Emma and me for breakfast. He seemed fascinated enough talking to both Emma and me equally, which gave me a strange feeling of comfort as I focused on my Belgian waffle. He had taken us from our cabin to a nice enough little diner on the edge of the town, even agreeing to pay for our meal as a sort of welcome to Shasta. “

Everyone in the store was saddened by Rosie's departure as assistant manager, but a select few were thrilled by her replacement. Her name was Henrietta, and she was a stalwart sixty-something who had been born Henry Denzel and had changed her name to Henrietta Dynamo after a good thirty years of hormonal therapy. She was brassy, extremely good with children who wanted to fish sweets from the candy barrels, and all around the biggest chocolate enthusiast one could find on the east side of the Mississippi. She was spectacular.