My Cardboard Balcony

Two Extra Lovers by Belinda Roddie Dear wife: I confess to you that I have kissed two others - an extra pair of lovers whom I kept in close rendezvous. The first of which was Claudia. We kissed in a secret place; though I don't recall her face, and we did not have quite an audience. The second, dear, was Junee: I remember them quite well. Curly hair, glasses, and bells piercing her nose, lips, and ears. We met under canopies of light and silken satin draped across our bodies just like capes like we were stars celestial bright. There was a wedding by the archway, and the music was so cheery 'gainst the weather that was dreary, though the sun won out that day. Junee fell into my arms then, and I drank in their aroma as if they had come from Roma, burning my heart just like arson. And we danced like we were immortal - and we danced like we were spirits ignoring all our demerits, swinging toward a tempting portal. Yes, we kissed while we were d...

I Ate It All by Belinda Roddie Bubba McBlubber's Diner served a burger with sixteen beef patties.

Missed Call by Belinda Roddie You lit up my phone at eleven when I had passed out at a quarter to seven. I was nervous about answering, so I just let it ring. The tone sounded familiar, even after so many years of never hearing that little tinny jingle in my left ear (I sleep on my right side, so that's where it hit me the most). I woke up to no voicemail - just, "Missed Call." And for a moment, I had wondered if you had actually called at all. Maybe I was just hallucinating that you were staring at that tiny screen, just waiting for me to call back as you probably chowed down on your cocktail shrimp and she drained you of all your champagne. No bubbly tonight, thanks. And I'm not going to take your bait. Five years it's been since we had our first date. Two years since it ended, like curtains were set on fire when they should have just quietly descended. Honey tea and watching the Spelling Bee like an old married couple - those days...

Buttermilk Nightmares by Belinda Roddie It was Shrove Tuesday, and the pancakes cowered in fear.

Haircut From Hell by Belinda Roddie Zeke wanted a sick red mohawk. He got horns instead.

The Fiscal Confession by Belinda Roddie That's right: it was I who did Uncle Max's taxes!

Only One Light-Up Shoe by Belinda Roddie The girl at the crosswalk had only one light-up shoe. It glinted blue like a neon sign as she skipped away from the bombardment of angry automobiles. It shone like a cyan glowstick at a rave built just for her. The other sneaker held no light. It was only along for the ride. This piece of flash fiction was brought to you by, indeed, a girl in San Francisco with only one light-up shoe.