My Cardboard Balcony

And The Clocks Went Dead by Belinda Roddie I had a dream that time stopped, and the chemistry of our bodies couldn't handle the change. Light burst from our eyes like tiny supernovae, and we screamed, for the pain in our heads was too much to bear. But then, it was over, and the darkness faded, and the throbbing subsided like a fading drum. I walked out into the snow and saw shadows there, some in dark coats, and some with no purpose at all. When I was actually awake, I went out to grab lunch at the burrito shop, and the girl who served me rice and chorizo had a tattoo under her right eye: A green dollar sign, like a fragile wish for success drawn in ink on her translucent skin. I stepped out into the rain, and the shadows were still there, though time moved as quickly as it always did, and there were no dying stars in my eyes.

Avery didn't know how she could repay Ramona. She wouldn't have to. Unfortunately, Ramona passed away in her sleep mere days after assisting the high schooler, having dealt with a terminal, yet closely guarded, illness for the last four years of her life. Avery attended her memorial, and she felt like a mere shadow among the other mourners. Her hands were cold and stiff while folded together, feeling as rigid as the preserved corpse in the coffin in front of her.