My Cardboard Balcony

Fell In Love With A Golem by Belinda Roddie She held her body at an angle so I could see her sharpest points. No curves, no bends, no bridges, just dead ends and cliffs and edges. Her tongue was rock against my teeth. Her mouth was cold clay in a bristling tundra. I was confused by the lack of heat. The lack of soul. Everything was jagged and threatened to scratch my body raw. She was so very, very rough.

I gripped the steering wheel in both hands, trying to ignore the trembling in my fingers, trying to ignore the hot throbbing in my ears and around my cheekbones. I wanted to keep the car steady, to stay within the dotted lines, to just keep driving. Just. Keep. Driving. It didn't matter who said what to me or who did what to me. It didn't matter how much they tried to break me. I wasn't in pieces yet. So I had to keep moving.