My Cardboard Balcony

Hope For An Alternative by Belinda Roddie Point a wind turbine at a flapping jowl, and the words could melt into an astounding electrical pulse that can be used to fuel your home during the coldest of winters. If only we could harvest renewable energy from the hateful bluster of bloated, bigoted, overconfident, and demagogic fools.

I awoke from my temporary numbness to find that the airbag had inflated, cushioning my forehead but not stopping the blood from trailing from a narrow cut along my jaw. Beside me, my cousin seemed fine - shaken, but fine - as my eyes readjusted to my surroundings. I remembered now: It was snowing, my vision had become compromised, and a lamppost from a distance had looked like a shining, moth-luring safe haven.