My Cardboard Balcony

Hey, Buddy by Belinda Roddie Hey, buddy, kiss me before you take off tonight. The whiskey's still bright on my tongue, like a flame leading you like a shy moth to my mouth. You're my friend and number one in life, so why not sprint to first base with me? I know that you're blushing underneath that thatch of red hair. Just let the words slip away and let our bodies make the speech. C'mon, buddy, this night is made for us. Let's grab a bottle and find a hotel where we can fire our big new romance up before the morning comes. Yeah, I can tell we can make this way more than friendship. So let's do this. Our parents don't need to know.

I thought about giving my mom a shell for her birthday. That was it. Just a clean, polished, shiny shell - maybe one that had more than one color naturally painted across its ridges. Could have been pure white or splattered golds, purples, and reds. Could have been solid black, like obsidian. Didn't matter. She would've loved it. My mom always talked about shells. Every hour, on the hour, she'd sit up in her hospital bed, looking out at the beach just outside her window. Begging for a seashell necklace.