My Cardboard Balcony

The Night by Belinda Roddie The night was hot as Hell, and we rolled up the sleeves of our shirts so we could endure the blist'ring heat. We decided to stop by the gas station for a drink to slurp and candy bars to snack on before we went back to your place. You took off your top the moment the door slammed. Your bosom free and your skin moist and glistening, you plopped yourself on the couch and patted the space beside you. I could not resist - I fell onto the cushions, my perspiring face nearly colliding with your chest. The smell of body odor was mixed with your own perfume, and I was servant to your throne.

The salesman came back our house three times that day. I wasn't sure if he was lost or lonely. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe he had a really bad short term memory. Or maybe he was searching for something that I wasn't sure I had. When I heard the doorbell rang again, I debated ducking under my couch with my cellphone and dialing the police. Instead, I went to the window, and ther he was, dressed in his tan suit, looking like the world was collapsing around him.