My Cardboard Balcony

What's Up With Her? by Belinda Roddie "What's up with her?" I thought as the girl spun and wobbled in the middle of the dance floor. It seemed like she had been overcome with emotion, or she was in a trance, or she was doing some weird ritual for all of us to witness. When she thrust her body forward, it was spiritual. When she dipped low, I felt a carnal lust in my wrought bones, growling like it wanted to break from its ivory cage. The whole bar seemed to freeze in time, the walls washed red from the lights above our heads. Feeble souls were strengthened, hearts were lifted, and our brains focused on her , cleansed of life's ugly stains.

Randall wanted to install solar panels on the roof of his house, but on the same day he planned to call someone about it, he was fired from his comfortable cubicle job at the call center, allegedly because he had not sold enough "data plans" to enough customers. I didn't ask him too many questions - I just let him sniffle about a "lost opportunity to help the environment" as I drank my beer, wondering why he was more worried about the solar stuff than the fact that he no longer had a stable income.