My Cardboard Balcony

Morning With A Marionette by Belinda Roddie I woke up an hour before the show, and I stretched and felt the muscles in my arms and back become elastic, the puppet master tightening the strings throughout my body, making me stiff and taut and ready to dance.

The suit was ready, and Carol was super stoked to pick it up. Only problem: When she went in, the shopkeeper wouldn't sell it to her. He hadn't been the same person she worked with last night, and he was convinced that the suit should be picked up by a man, not a blushing bride-to-be. "How about this," Carol warned the clueless guy, cracking the knuckles on her right hand. "Sell me the suit, or you'll be seeing so many stars and rainbows that you'll start questioning if you're really gay."