My Cardboard Balcony

Train Station by Belinda Roddie We dreamed of kisses over webcams, talked about our future on the phone. You boarded a train to California, while I planned for your arrival at home. When you showed up by the turnstile, my heart froze, then quickly thawed out. There's something about actually meeting that finally allows me to love aloud.

The audience was painfully silent as I approached the stage. I knew what they were expecting. An aria, or a dance, or a stand-up comedy routine. I wasn't going to do any of those. I waited for the guy running the film projector to give me the thumbs up, so I could begin my presentation. It would involve slides, music, and lots of words - strong words. I had a message to send out to these people. It was up to them to take anything I said or showed seriously.

Maroon by Belinda Roddie Maroon: The color of her necktie, the lipstick on her mouth. The clip holding her overgrown bangs against her golden scalp. A napkin draped across an abundant lap. A curtain over a frosted window to her left. She raises her glass to happiness and love, and her Cabernet matches the tablecloth, the laces on her shoes, the buttons on her gray blazer's sleeves. Then, when she stands up, the glint of blue catches her eye, as one of the more esteemed guests approaches her side of the table with a smile glowing above the collar of her flowing, periwinkle gown.

"So what happened?" inquired Edna. "Old Howie go off on the barkeep in a drunken rage again?" Howie was fast asleep on the couch, with Ursula nursing a cut on his jaw with a pack of frozen peas. I just sat back and exhaled, cracking open a can of cheap beer. "Not the barkeep, no," I replied. "Some neighbor from his childhood, Owen or something? He showed up, and all Hell broke loose. Guess they had some sort of past rivalry or grudge or whatever."

I was ready to roast marshmallows and make myself some s'mores that night, and as I went to the kitchen to fetch the supplies, I caught Marcus sitting at the dining room table, taking a large bite out of a chocolate bar. One look at the wrappers scattered in front of him, and my jaw dropped. "Um, Marcus," I whispered, "those were for us. Y'know, the ones camping out tonight." "Oh." Marcus burped. "Don't worry. I didn't eat all of 'em."

by Belinda Roddie She giggled maniacally, thrilled that her plan worked. In about seven minutes, Connor would be heading to the locker room, thinking he would be inviting her crush to the Valentine's Day dance. Instead, he'd be met with a gaggle of her friends with silly spray and whipped cream to douse him with. Nothing tasted sweeter than the flavor of inflicted humiliation. Reaching into her backpack, Nikki proceeded to pull out her phone and text a brief numeric code to her bestie Chelsea, who was the ringleader of the gang and its enforcement of the master plan. In the meantime, she had a pretty dame to woo. She practically skipped to the soccer field to watch the beautiful Amanda, all grass stains and ponytail and cleats, play some scrimmage before the junior varsity team's big game. Amanda was nearly six feet tall, brown-skinned, sharp-browed, and very, very attractive. She towered over the rest of her team as she played, her capacity as fullback in full fo...

She wanted an espresso and a scone, and once she got what she wanted, she sauntered over to the corner table and immersed herself in a book. Almost instantly, a young gentleman was hovering over her chair, trying to make small talk. The scene was enough to make me want to crush a paper cup in my fist and then hurl the angry wad at the guy's head, but if I were this frustrated, I could only imagine how much irritation the woman was feeling.