My Cardboard Balcony

God's Special Recipe by Belinda Roddie you are beholden to sweet, sweet religion, the confectionary precision lingering like sweating sugar in your mouth your distemper is assuaged by the thickness of the Scripture, savored in one serving on a spoon once you taste it, your sinuses radiate the heat of one Lonely, Holy Word

The china was broken, the silverware dented in sad, twisted lumps on the counter. I counted the fragments of plates and realized, to my shock, that not a single one of my dishes lay unscathed. As I circled around the room, avoiding shards on the floor, I wondered just why, exactly, someone who could very well have stolen my things had decided, upon infiltrating my home, to destroy them instead.