A Firefly's Glow

Chapter Three: Part Four

I held the phone against my ear. The dial tone droned from the receiver.

My stomach was rowdily growling again. Maybe I shouldn’t have skipped dinner, but I didn’t feel ready to face Megane and that blonde boy just yet.

Of course, sitting in that room for over three hours got very boring, no matter how big it was. You couldn’t possibly expect me to sit on that huge bed with nothing to do.

So I got up and began exploring the room, peeking through wardrobes and shelves.

The wardrobes were full of what seemed like dresses, with as many styles as I could imagine. Though the wardrobe placed into my room seemed very much like a small room that was concealed deep into the wall. (I immediately shut the wardrobe, avoiding any more exaggerations.)

The shelves were empty. It seemed as if books were required, and the only books I owned at this moment were the textbooks that forlornly sat in the box that was shoved into the corner of the room. Though this didn’t necessarily mean that those shelves weren’t exaggerated.

There must have been at least thirty shelves lined on the wall, and the shelves reached as high up as the ceiling. Who on earth would be tall enough to reach a shelf that was that high?

I continued eyeing the room, peeking under the bed and around corners until I spotted a short table at the end of the room.

“Thank goodness!” I had exclaimed, silently celebrating an item that wasn’t exaggerated. I hurried over towards the table and peered at every inch of it.

“I love you, you non-exaggerated table!” I chirped with a newly found smile as I embraced the round glassed table. Once I did, I felt something tap against my head. I stumbled an inch backwards to see that atop of that small, unexaggerated table was a small orange phone.

And so now, I was holding that very phone to my ear.

I hadn’t showed up for work today after all. For all I knew, the Orange Café was probably overloaded with customers, and mobs could be trampling Sora and Mikan and Amanatsu all because of one short coworker that stood up her shift.

I squirmed in guilt as the thought swam through my mind.

The least I could do was call the café and inform everyone that I had been kidnapped and put into an overly exaggerated house being tortured by a blonde dictator and his sunglasses wearing sidekick, and that I was absolutely fine.

Plus, it would soothe my worries to find out if all of them were doing okay. And as agonizing as it seemed, it was respectable to inform them that I won’t be returning to work.

I slowly pressed the small buttons on the phone’s base. I was never used to pressing phone buttons, and I barely remembered the café’s phone number, so I was cautious not to press any wrong buttons.

Besides, it seemed scary thinking of the idea of dialing the wrong number and some stranger answering the other line. Especially if the stranger was a scary gorilla man that has the ability to track phone calls for revenge.

I pressed a bright, lime green button in the corner of the squarely shaped base, and a moderately pausing tone hummed.

There was a small click and the tone ceased. What replaced the tone was a lighthearted voice.

“Hello, this is the Orange Café. How may I help you?”

I recognized the soft voice and I froze in place.

I wanted to scream into the receiver and shout “Help me! I’m trapped in an exaggerated mansion!”

But instead, what uttered out of my mouth was a soft whisper.