The Call
He's lying on the couch watching a moth's irregular flight around the room. The creature seems to him to be lost, trapped in an artificial world.
The phone rings.
A list of possible people runs through his mind, but none of the names seem right. He wonders who it might be.
The phone rings.
He tries to make a decision about answering it. Maybe one more ring. But . . . he doesn't want to talk or hear another voice. The moth is starting to circle.
The phone rings.
Maybe it's important, or an emergency. But he doesn't reach for the phone. Maybe I am needed somewhere, he thinks, but disregards that thought as fantasy.
The phone rings.
Last ring before voice mail takes the call. The moth lands on the carpet and flattens its wings to the floor. He chooses not to answer the call, no matter who it was or what it was about . . . .
If it was ever a choice at all.
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