My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie I wanted to savor it, but it was just too good to resist. So I ate it all in a couple of bites. I sat down on the nearest plastic chair to let my stomach settle. All the flavors hit like the aftershock of an earthquake. Chocolate and raspberry and spun sugar. An incorrigible tornado of sweetness. Luckily, there had only been one slice left of Grandma Wendy's signature cake, so it was impossible for me to be tempted to get more. The family picnic was winding to a close at this point; my parents were busy cleaning up the main food table, and Uncle Charles was cracking open the last couple of beers, handing a bottle to my cousin Dwayne and walking with him down to the creek. We had opted for a barbecue in the neighborhood park, since my mom was still renovating her backyard, tearing out the old lawn and replacing it with desert-appropriate fare. I never thought I'd like cacti so much until the drought hit us harder than any other region. I wasn't ex...

The two old men were wining and dining, chewing and grinding, sharing stories and bad jokes at the corner table. It was actually fun to listen in on. The two elderly gents appeared to be very close - friends, or perhaps even lovers. But they did appear to be reconnecting or rekindling something that perhaps had been lost long ago. One of them still had a good head of hair, his smile big beneath his lumberjack-esque beard.