My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie It was my third day at the werepuppy shelter, and Halloween was the most popular adoption event. I started the morning in a typical fashion: Washing my hands, putting on my bite-proof gloves and long-sleeved tunic, tucking my hair into the standard black net that made us look more like we were working at Drac's Diner than tending to little canines. The rest of my staff had finished off the recent pot of coffee by the time I stepped out of the bathroom, but Valencia, bless her zombified soul, was brewing another. She groaned a greeting to me as I fetched a styrofoam cup. "Big day today," I said with a smile on my face. Valencia nodded. A loose piece of skin dangled from her graying jawline. "Exciting," she mumbled. She poured me java that was as black as a moonless night, and I enjoyed the bitterness. There was a line outside the shelter already, and it was only eight minutes before we opened the doors. I was told to expect this. W

The puppies were cute. The kittens were cute. The dresses that little girls wore were all cute. Everything to Cecily Lee was so cute! Even the roses and daisies were cute. She flung around that word like a flag of pride, while her English teacher father died a little on the inside. She asked for new socks and umbrellas and boots in just the right colors - so they could be cute! And her father obliged, all compliant and mute.