My Cardboard Balcony

A Formal Break-Up Letter by Belinda Roddie Dear Sir or Madam: We deeply regret to inform you that your mental state is deteriorating, and your "love" no longer needed. This decision was made after some months of deliberation, pertaining to various factors of efficiency, personal needs, and the weighing of risk factors in continuing a relationship that no longer benefits either party, no matter how misguided one party's opinion might be. What you should know: You are no longer deemed a good fit for the position, which may or may not remain vacant in the near future. There is a surplus of genuine inner passion that will easily surpass your skill set and work ethic. No longer do we require your imploring orations, "sincere" perspectives, or physical "prowess" when it comes to everything romance. This letter also dismisses the following: Pizza crumbs in the sofa that you refuse to clean; offhanded comments regarding our sister

Was I in love with him? Hardly. He seemed to think I was, though. He'd primp himself in the rearview mirror of his car whenever I passed by the driver's side on my way home from work. One time, when he was chatting me up at the counter, I could smell the cologne seeping from the sweaty folds of his jacket. And even when I wasn't looking, I could tell he was leering. He may have been into me, but I was far, far from being into him.