My Cardboard Balcony

For The Love Of God by Belinda Roddie For the love of God, bring me sleep at last, for I grow weary at this time of night. My eyes grow heavier, but despite that, I lie awake for hours at a time. Sometimes, I count the cracks along the walls and ceiling, finding faces in the white and crumbling plaster. Once the morning calls, I feels the veins around my face grow tight and angry. I can't function like this for much longer; I will surely go insane, for if I cannot sleep much anymore, the hallucinations will be so plain to see. In fact, I'm having one right now: Who walked in here and left behind a cow?!

She thought she'd be a monk one day, living in Tibet. She established her own tea shop and made pottery instead. She married a rich woman who inherited the loot from her father, who had made a fortune on making waterproof, but still chic, boots. They adopted two bulldogs, who drooled all over the floor. And one day, while brewing chai, she said aloud, "I can't do this anymore."