My Cardboard Balcony

A Yardstick Hitting A Table by Belinda Roddie What a feeling - that shot of adrenaline straight to your bones. You almost pass out from the sheer jolt of it, the electricity built up like an angry reserve of hornets waiting for their last heroic sting. You expect some sort of allergic reaction - revealed in groaning mobs of boils or hives - a personal moment of anaphylactic shock just for you, with no other audience but the remaining vibrations keeping in lockstep with the choreography of your shaking hand.

Mary Mason was extra cranky and irritable this morning, so she decided to go to the grocery and curse out the nearest scrawny and pubescent clerk she could find. Instead of an adolescent loser trying to make enough money to buy a new bicycle, however, was a woman whom Mary fell totally and absolutely in love with. With her red curls and gray eyes, she simply nodded cordially to the grouchy forty-something before scanning her candy bar and bottle of wine - no cheesy and fake smile to be seen.