My Cardboard Balcony

O' Poor, Doomed Sailor by Belinda Roddie Lend your ear to the sirens. If you try to speak to them, they'll drown you out. Learn to breathe bubbles if they drag you beneath the ocean's blackened foam. They'll tie your wrists and ankles together with seaweed stronger than steel. Drink their brine as if it's nectar. Their kisses will leave your lips blue and your mouth very numb. Once you get used to it, you will be fine with floating aimlessly within their cold, endless territory.

Everything in the kitchen was complete and utter chaos. Dishes were collecting in damp, dirty piles in the once pristine sink. Pans scattered on the stove top reeked of dried eggs and coconut oil. I was just trying to grab a sponge when the dog bounded across the slippery wooden floor, knocking into a counter and, of course, taking down a full bottle of vinaigrette that exploded into wet, spicy shrapnel before my eyes.