The Queen of Hearts chuckled and looked away. The Joker’s smirk was too much for her to handle, their little flirtation turning her cheeks red under her already rouge blush. Their heads were tipped toward each other as if they had been whispering secrets. Their hushed voices were imperative because God only knows what the King of Clubs would say if he found out. Their delicious love triangle only kept getting juicier.
In this House of Cards, the Joker had caught the Queen of Heart’s eye, and part of the love that she held in her hands. But here she stood, trapped, in the middle of this house and if she moved a muscle, all would come tumbling down. So she held strong, faking pride to be next to the King of Clubs, even though the swinging of his weapon was no longer attractive. At this point, it was just atrocious.
From the one side, they all look the same. They’re all cloaked in a beautiful pattern of interwoven cherry red and ocean blue. The design looks as if dancers twirled around a paint soaked floor. But turn them around and they could not be more different. Some hold weapons, others love, and yet still others hold jewels and sharp tools. These differences were causing turmoil, for the King of Clubs had finally caught sight of the side-ways glances and hidden smiles exchanged between the Queen of Hearts and her Joker. He was twirling his club faster as his rage grew, and it seemed like only a matter of time before its wind would blow the whole house over.
It’s a stable house, with a wide, strong base and perfect peak. But let’s call a spade a spade: this stable House of Cards is ironically fragile. While the Queen of Hearts was eyeing the Joker, the King of Clubs was puffing his chest, trying to bend to get the Queen to see him better. But the House needed him to stand tall, so he could only bend so far. And no matter which way the King of Clubs bent, the Queen only had eyes for the Joker. No, the King of Clubs would never know that although he was trying to bend at all the right angles just to please her, it would never be enough. Because the Queen didn’t want him to bend, she wanted him to break.
The Joker didn’t want any blood on his hands. He stayed his distance, holding up his wall as was his duty. He knew that should he make the wrong move, or any move at all, that the whole house would fall. And caught in the middle, trapped and juggling the love of two, stood tall the Queen of Hearts.
From the outside, the house is beautiful. The thin walls are delicate, contrasting with the strong picture of the house as a whole. So when the whole thing goes down as if a silent, invisible breeze rushed through it, I couldn’t believe it. But as the cards drifted toward a wooden table top, the Queen of Hearts let out a sigh. She was finally free from that house-like prison. With her back lying on the cold table top, she could not imagine a better view.
Bits of Broken Pieces 