My Cardboard Balcony

Romance In The Middle Of Nowhere by Belinda Roddie We casually hold hands under the table. The waitress doesn't notice. Neither does the redneck wearing a baseball cap and a Confederate flag T-shirt sitting nearby, slurping down a chocolate milkshake way too loudly. You pay the bill, and I add the tip. When we get in our truck, we share one very brief kiss, our eyes straying to the rearview mirror to make sure no one saw us. You tuck your hair into your hat, and I rub the remaining lipstick away from my cheek. There's dust in our mouths, and we choke on the heat as we peel away from the ramshackle diner, where more like us hide in booths, chewing on cold pancakes, braiding their fingers under red plastic tables.

"I was thinking of seeing that new feature at the local theater," said Anthony. "Wanna come?" I cocked my head to the side and looked at him. "Feature? That's what you call it?" "Whatever. Movie, dude. I heard it's pretty damn fun." "Like, DVD fun or overpriced evening tickets fun?" "C'mon, man. I'll buy you a drink when it's over if you don't like it." "Buy me a drink if I do like it, Tony. Either way."