First Intermission

The phone rang again. It was the fourth time within the hour.

The pages of the book blurred her vision, kept her attention pinned to them with its hypnotic words.

A different chime filled the air. Her throat became parched suddenly. She placed the book on the cushion to her side and retreated to the kitchen, not before grabbing her phone from her purse.

Sliding the screen lock to “unlock” she thumbed the corresponding touch screen buttons to display her recent calls list. It was him; the boy who had stood her up. No doubt the voice message he just left was filled with an apologetic tone while trying to coo in her ear how wonderful she is and how he “promises” to make it up to her.

Fuck him, she thinks as she closes the refrigerator door and retreats back to the couch, taking a few sips of orange juice before setting it down just near the edge of the table.

Her eyes wandered to the analogue clock just above her television set; half past midnight. Typically she would be asleep at this time only to awaken six hours later for the commute to work, followed by school, and then to a studio she rents in Manhattan strictly for painting. Her apartment simply could not accommodate her passion for painting, and her wallet could barely cover both. Something needed to be changed, but what? She could just move into the studio but the neighbors were far from what one might call pleasant. Her current apartment was in a co-op building with lots of older couples who would rather be left alone then pry into a stranger’s life. Unlike the residents of the building with her personal art gallery. Details must be hashed out, but later.

The phone rang once again.

Before continuing reading she decided to hear him out, although she knew it was all bullshit. Sure enough she was right. Not interested in getting into a long discussion, she cut him off by saying, “I don’t need an explanation to why you stood me up. I’m a big girl. So please spare me. When I’m ready to talk I’ll get in contact with you, not the other way around. Got it?”

Before he could speak she hung up the phone, turned it off, got up to place it back in her purse, returning to her place on the couch.

Book in hand, she decided a few more pages would suffice before she succumbed to the urgency to get some rest. Not before.


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