Millie lay awake on her bed, crying but not crying because her eyes were wet but no tears streamed down.
The shrill sound of her phone rang throughout the room but she lay still, not making a move to answer, instead staring at the ceiling as if it was something uniquely interesting.
On the fourth ring, she propped her elbow up and leaned towards the side table for the godforsaken phone and without looking at the caller ID, roughly pressed the talk button.
"Hello?" She spoke, her voice quivering.
"Millie?"
"M-Marie?"
"Yes, it's me, hun. It's me."
"Hi, Marie."
"Hi, sweetie. How are you doing?"
"Okay. Good, I guess," she paused for a while, background noises from Marie's side flowing to her ear, "I'm alone, Marie." And then the tears that weren't coming before, streamed down her cheeks then.
"Oh, sweetie, you're not alone! You've got me."
YOU ARE READING
Out of Sight, Out of Mind.
Poetryconsists of random pieces of poetry, unfinished one-shots, ideas, and my thoughts that don't make sense (beware; use of lower case letters) Short Story #172 Cover by: @inserene_ [ © billie rose two-thousand-&-thirteen ]
