My Cardboard Balcony

A Gold Coin by Belinda Roddie A gold coin tumbled from my fingers as I slipped, knees-first, onto the pavement, my hair askew, my throat dry, my eyes like glass - polished but red. I worried that I'd die before I made it back with my small prize, enough to feed my family for days, almost a week. I thought about the size of the bread loaf I could purchase, the glaze of a large ham, the smell of pickled eggs - brine, salt, and honey tickling at my nose. Still weak with hunger, I forced my thin legs to push me upward, and, struggling, I rose to face the harsh wind. Stifling every groan, I staggered on and aimed my heart for home.

There were seventeen different swatches of fabric on the kitchen table by the time Bill got home. The first thing he noticed was that his wife was staring at said swatches, rubbing her brow feverishly as she perused them and apparently analyzed them. The second thing he noticed was that all the swatches appeared to be the same shade of red. "No, they're not," his wife protested when Bob commented on that. "You're colorblind. These are clearly different. We have blood orange, burgundy, ketchup, brick, rust..." Bob decided not to argue.