My Cardboard Balcony

Hamlet by Belinda Roddie The skull is dust, the sword is rust, and the flights of angels fall. And the ghost chokes on Hell's flames and ash as your blood colors the wall.

I didn't go out to billiards with friends. I didn't want a beer, or an overly salted pretzel, or a bunch of pictures taken of me on a cellphone to be put up on the newest and "freshest" networking site. I stayed at home with a ninety-nine degree temperature, watching bad movies over and over again until I got tired of seeing Tom Cruise's face everywhere. The June heat should have been unbearable, but I felt cold instead. When I got sick, I was almost paralyzed. It was pathetic.