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She walked in from the backyard on the winter's day clutching her latest thing - a book to make her feel less boring.
It was weird that her phone rang the minute she was brave enough to pull it out from under her pillow. She was hardly brave. She dabbled in liquid courage way more than she ought. She did so many things way more than she ought, but she was going to finish this diatribe. Whatever voodoo caused her to cut the phone off in mid-ring, she was going to go for it until the end of this missive. It didn't make sense. None of it ever did.
Last night, she had admitted she loved him. The neighbor was moving out today, and it made her so sad. He was the cat neighbor, and she wondered how it would all go. She didn't even know that when you click that side button to turn the screen off, it could send a call to voicemail. It was all she could do not to wonder. But, first to trade on the only thing that mattered: her interior life.
The mystery novel wasn't going great, but she had put some local color into it. It was kind of magic that she had accidentally hung up on him. How weird. He must think she had turned her phone off for the first time in their entire relationship. What story could she make up for that beyond, "I picked up the phone and was clicking off the screen the moment you called."
What did any of it mean. She was hoping to come out of this alive. She wasn't at all sure how she was going to manage it. The most she could do was to go by root instinct.
Again and again.
Maybe she could take a nap or watch a snoozy movie.
She had forgotten what she even wanted to say.
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