My Cardboard Balcony

How To Deal With An Anxious Person by Belinda Roddie Listen to me screaming - I apologize if I made your ears ring. Sometimes, my diatribes become primal gibberish after a hot meal or a stiff glass of whiskey. I give you permission to shut my worries out. Lock me up in a windowless room so you can't hear me shout. Steal all my words and put them in a jar so they don't take up space in my mouth.

"So what was your role in Missus Sherman's campaign?" asked the interviewer as I sat, refusing to smile, in the red cushioned chair opposite from his own. He was supposed to be some hot new big shot that the mainstream media adored. Very. Beaming. Good head of blonde hair. I sighed and knotted my fingers together in my lap. The aftermath of the state election still stung. "I was her financial consultant," I explained.