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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Contest · #1323651
The angst of love and a coward dies a thousand deaths.
                For the seventh time he hung up the phone before his call had connected and covered his face with both hands and sat with his elbows propped on his desk, his world hidden so he wouldn’t have to look at it, maybe it would go away. 

         He could hear noises from the kitchen downstairs, could smell a roast burning, more ice being retrieved from the refrigerator, another drink being served by the cook to the cook, who by now, was no doubt cooked herself.

         A little red light on the phone in front of him blinked on and off. A cute little pink cordless phone blinking innocently at him like a woman batting her eyelashes, he wanted to pick the little tart up and heave it through the closed window.

         Hello, Jennifer?  This is Jeffery Myers.  Yes, THE Jeffery Myers.  Well, I suppose so, Jennifer, go grab a chair; I wouldn’t want you to faint dead away.  Are you seated?  Good, now try to calm down, okay, Jennifer?  No more thanking God- I’m sure He says ‘thou shalt refrain from further mention’, something like that, really. “Oh, to hell with it!” he said, and picked up the little winking cordless phone and began punching in the number he now knew by heart.

         It rang once.  Twice.  Three times. The fourth ring and the fifth came and went and he closed his eyes through the sixth and put the phone down gently on the seventh, pushing the “Off” button as he did so. 
         
                He put his head down into his hands and hid his face from the world again and didn’t move a muscle for the next half hour and sixteen slurred shouts of “Jeffrey!” from his mother downstairs and two that “dinner was ready, young man!”


[300 words]














         
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