Allison Jae Evans: Hung Up

The phone rings twice.

It always rings twice.

A sultry voice purrs across the line.

“Hi there.

I’m so glad you called.

I’ve been waiting.”

She’s always waiting.

“Meet me in an hour.

You know the place.”

I’ve been there a thousand times, but I’m still not sure it exists.

My ears ring.

The rhythmic din of bodies and drums and bass drones through the wire.

I open my mouth to decline, but it’s too late.

She’s hung up.