My Cardboard Balcony

The Invasion by Belinda Roddie The invasion had begun sooner than any of us expected, and it was swift and precise. We felt terror in the wind, and at night, we heard sirens wail. A miffed old neighbor was the first to go, and we saw all our plans to flee crumble away, as all the ships descended, groups of three landing in each yard and around the bay. My mother fainted at the very sight of the first one that stepped off their vessel. My father held my mom's limp body tight as I prepared for a true living hell. The invasion caused all our hopes to fly - I'm saying that ants should crawl off and die.

Frisky Kitties by Belinda Roddie Frisky kitties everywhere, playing with both their toys and my hair. Go to the pet shop - adopt some more. What the hell are you waiting for?

Long Day by Belinda Roddie Got a free hard cider waiting for me at the bar when I'm done with the shift. Sexy barkeep's strutting in flats with her purple hair up in fireworks, and she's hoping for an aftertaste once I'm done finishing my glass and cleaning my plate. My friends will smoke outside, but I'll stay in the miniature city of lights with the low ceiling - chandelier spots decorating my shoulders like newfound freckles, not bright enough to be stars, but warm enough to tattoo me. And I'll ask for another free cider, but the barkeep's not that generous. Not even for a kiss? Not even for the best kiss from Casanova.

"Where's your phone?" "Still charging." "Where's your wallet?" "In my left back pocket." "Where are your keys?" I dangled them in front of her face, and she pawed at them like a hyperactive kitty. That got a good laugh out of her. "So you're good without your phone for a couple of hours?" "Why not? I could handle not having one in my twenties." Ah, the eighties. So easy to be nostalgic for. Yet so much wrong about them.

Take Thirty by Belinda Roddie Christ on a crostini, I feel like I can't do anything right. The flowers I bought are the wrong hue. The tea is cold, and the cookies are stale. I may as well slink off to the bedroom and whine loudly into an extra flurry pillow. Because if there's one thing I can do  perfectly, it's feeling sorry for myself.