My Cardboard Balcony

Rainbow Dragon by Belinda Roddie Some say when I die, a rainbow dragon will swoop to my bedside and scoop me up in its gentle jaws, before carrying me to its aerie on the zenith of the highest mountain in the world - not my world. Its world. And it will shower my body in gold and jewels while my soul lifts like silver from the broken, puckered flesh, liquid at first, but then blooming like a phoenix's plume as I grow my own neon wings and fly alongside my new celestial partner for a new kind of forever.

We pooled all our savings into one bowl - cash, coins, even gift cards - and stared at the results. To be fair, the bowl was pretty big - steel and bulbous, bearing the so-called treasures that we had earned or scavenged for throughout our years together. As we began counting the actual money, Tracey collected the gift cards in a stack because we weren't quite sure how much value they had - if any at all.