My Cardboard Balcony

The Day Is Long by Belinda Roddie The day is long, and I have gotten more exhausted with each tick of the wall clock, like a heart beat or wave against the shore in its incessant, loud tick-tock, tick-tock. I haven't eaten since fifteen past noon, and I can feel a squeezing in my head like I'm to be popped like a fat balloon and explode outward in a sea of red. Look, I am even becoming grotesque in my language because I am so worn down and mentally drained. I need to rest with a cider in my hand and a torn up sandwich in my stomach. Then, at last, on a warm bed with my lover I'll crash.

"I deserved the silent treatment, didn't I?" I was surprised to hear him say that, after all the weeks we didn't speak to each other. I didn't want to deal with him. His audacity was already uncharacteristic enough. I'd imagine him to be the type of guy who would shrug and walk away after an argument or a tense exchange. Not this boy. He was willing to guilt trip in front of me. Beg for forgiveness. See if we could forge something different. "Yeah," I replied. "Yeah, you did deserve it."