Blue days. Black nights. And here I am – somewhere in between.
If you answer the phone, I’ll be so happy I won’t be able to talk. It doesn’t matter what you would say.
If you don’t answer it…
But no. I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t call you. I’ll hang up. I’m hanging up now. And click. The call has ended. I should leave and go home. Get some rest.
But what if I just stay here outside your apartment and try to call you again?
Maybe you won’t pick up.
Maybe it will go to voicemail.
That’s fine. I’ll hear your voice, your lovely recorded voice, and you’ll speak to me. “Please leave your message at the beep.” “I’m not here right now.” Or some variant of both. Maybe your message will be cute and funny, just like how I know you are. Maybe your voice will sound odd and bored as most voicemails sound. I hope not. I don’t want to hear you as anything but how I know you are.
And I know how you are.
So. I will call you again. You will say, “Hello?” My head will explode with excitement and I will somehow say, “Hello. How are you?” As if I didn’t know. “How have you been all these lonely nights?” As if I don’t know. Well, that I don’t know. I’m not a voyeuristic creep. I’m just in love with you.
I’m doing it.
I’m dialing your number.
I’m having problems breathing right. I might get hiccups or choke and die. I don’t know.
But your phone is ringing. It is the only sound I can hear right now.
It’s going to go to voicemail. It’s going to go to voicemail. I know it’s going to go to voicemail.
If it doesn’t… Oh! If it doesn’t…