My Cardboard Balcony

Closing Night by Belinda Roddie This is the way my world ends: not with a bang, but with a curtain call. I'm brought to the brink of a stage where rose petals have already been petrified and turned to gray. Still, I look forward to the next script I'm offered; perhaps this time, I'll play a villain or magician. Or maybe the story will be funnier, with way fewer lofty and pretentious monologues, which the audience seems to snore at.

"I can sense your aura." Amy blinked. "I'm...I'm sorry?" The old lady in the purple shawl did not blink. Her eyes stared endlessly into Amy, like two mini-vacuums sucking away her soul. "Your aura is...cloudy and angry. Very dark. Grays and blacks. Is this something amiss in your life?" Why weren't there any other seats on this bus? Amy looked out the window and felt her heart sink - she'd have to be with this lady for the next forty minutes.