The Call

The telephone rings endlessly.

This is insane!

Anxiety hits my stomach,

Then rises up through my body.

Will he pick up?

Butterflies roar.

Does he care?

Oh, no . . .

Breathe.

Click.

Someone’s there.

Who?

His sister maybe?

No.

It’s him . . .

I can’t think straight.

Click.

I hope—

no, wish

(wishing is more desperate)

that he can go.

Ask.

Now!

Click.

The words spill out,

like a reaction,

without thinking.

Where is the nervousness?

Gone.

His voice is muffled outside of the phone.

He is asking.

Please let him come.

I pray a thousand times in one second.

He can come!

My hand puts the phone down.

AAAHHH!

I scream as I let everything out.

I throw my arms around my friend . . .

The ultimate girly moment.

Wait.

Another problem.

What am I going to wear?