Ego by Belinda Roddie Honestly, his ego could've adopted a body of its own - a bloated, pompous body dressed in overpriced silks and ties and tails, belly distended from caviar and champagne and an inherent lack of proper digestion, knees bent and crooked from, ironically, standing up too straight and tall. The chest puffed out like a pelican's maw. And his ego's name, in my humble opinion, would be Edgar Rochester. The third. Always the third. The thirds were always the most egotistical.

Build by Belinda Roddie Together, we will build a house, and we will paint the roof shingles purple. And we will have a kitchen larger than the living room because where we eat and drink and cook is also where we ought to live. We will have a backyard with redwood trees and drink beers by the fire pit, and that is where we'll tell all of our stories. They will never have happy endings, but they will also never have sad endings. Unless our mortal coils, our stories will never truly end.

Married by Belinda Roddie Oliver and Olivia had been married for forty years, but only now were they just beginning to fall in love. Oliver decided to grow pink roses in their garden, which were Olivia's favorite, and Olivia had finally figured out what Oliver's favorite meal was. It was butternut squash soup with fresh sourdough, by the way, and he had it during all times of the year. They kissed every night before they went to bed, but after a while, it wasn't enough for them. How young they felt these days despite their age!

Cheap by Belinda Roddie "I'm not getting her that dress!" scoffed Robert. "It's cheap as hell!" "It's such a nice color, though!" "Yeah, and the fabric's so shitty that you'll be able to see her nipples in the dead of summer!" He yanked the sad lump of clothing away from his brother and haphazardly hung it back onto the rack. Ben rolled his eyes. "You know that your daughter likes showing off her nipples, right? That's why she had them pierced.

Cave by Belinda Roddie There was fresh water in the cave, and abandoned packs of food, too. We ate them with great relish, then slept with our heads lolled together in an effort to beat the cold. One night, she dozed off with her head in my lap, and as the rain crescendoed in its rolling percussion around us, I tried to think of a symphony - some sort of music that would heat up the chill in my bones but cool down the flames brewing in my brain.

Trade by Belinda Roddie Wanna trade boyfriends? Mine's broken. Nah. I think I'll exchange mine at the shop for a girlfriend. A girlfriend, huh? Yeah. A sweet one. Someone who actually asks how my day was. Ouch. Bar's set that low, huh? I could walk over that bar, yeah. Maybe I'll just ask for store credit. And buy what? I dunno. A toaster? I've wanted a new toaster for a while. ...Make me some cheese toast? What kind of cheese do you want? Girlfriend material cheese.

Pleading by Belinda Roddie How pathetic and sad to see, you on your knees, sniveling and pleading for your life. Don't you know who I am? I am the collector of souls without my own. I am the reaper who reaps an abandoned farm with infertile soil. I am absolutely fucking bereft of sympathy or empathy to you. Come on. Take my hand. You'll get used to the temperature. Your new room is upstairs. And for Pete's sake, wipe that disgusting snot off your face.

Approach by Belinda Roddie "Approach, Morvyn." They did so, and nervously, too - the cuirass they wore even rattled as their shoulders shook. The petite yet intimidating queen looked them up and down with a simpering smile. "You've been a squire for how long, Morvyn?" she asked. Morvyn blinked. "Three years, your majesty." "Speak up. I am not a bat with sonar hearing." "Three years." "Three years too long." The queen raised an eyebrow. "You ought to be a knight by now."

Platform by Belinda Roddie Having freedom of speech as per the first amendment of the Constitution does not mean you are owed a platform for said speech. Having freedom of speech as per the first amendment of the Constitution does not mean you are owed a platform for said speech. Having freedom of speech as per the first amendment of the Constitution does not mean you are owed a platform for said speech. Having freedom of speech as per the first amendment of the Constitution does not mean you are owed a platform for said speech. Having freedom of speech as per the first amendment of the Constitution does not mean you are owed a platform for said speech. Having freedom of speech as per the first amendment of the Constitution does not mean you are owed a platform for said speech. Having freedom of speech as per the first amendment of the Constitution does not mean you are owed a platform for said speech. Having freedom of speech as per the first amendment of the Constitution does not mea...

Park by Belinda Roddie Everyone knew that Mrs. Beaverton was a right stuck-up bitch. And she never liked to follow the rules, believing she was far superior to them. If there was a line, she would defy standing in it. If she wasn't allowed to park somewhere, by God, she would double park in that spot. And if only certain people got privileges or perks, why, then, why was she not on the top of that list of "certain people?" A right stuck-up bitch, that Mrs. Beaverton.

Confirmation by Belinda Roddie I didn't want to receive my confirmation, but there I was: My forehead glazed with oil, my hands shaking, my sins all buried in my stomach. I couldn't even look the bishop in the eye. I couldn't look my parents in the eye. All I could hear was the humming of the church organ. All I could smell was the smoldering incense. And I could feel was her gaze on me, as soft but somehow also as strong as her kisses. No one could know. But Christ knew.