same song and dance.

keeping in touch.

i didn't retain a single ounce of hope that marshall would call.

why exactly would he want to, anyway? i certainly didn't treat him as if i wanted him to. sure, i pulled that whole stunt with my number on his arm, but did i really think he'd be competent enough to acknowledge it?

hell no.

it was for these reasons that i attempted to get him off my mind.

i failed miserably.

for days, i had constantly been analyzing the tiniest things about our interactions at the back of my mind.

"i think i'm going insane," i mumbled aloud to myself, staring up into the blackness of my darkened cieling. another sleepless night lay ahead, no doubt.

as if the universe had recieved its cue to torture me, my phone rang. reluctantly, i answered.

"you fuckin' bitch.." someone slurred from the other end of the line.

whoever he was, he was hopelessly wasted.

"who is this?" i tried to demand angrily, but instead laughed at how pathetic this guy sounded.

"you, fuckin'..after you...you left.."

no fucking way.

"mar-"

"..there was, this black stuff...on my arm, an'...you fuckin', oh my god.."

"marsh-"

"i ain't..done, slut! can't believe.."

suddenly, his words all rushed together at the end of his statement, almost incomprehensible.

"..why would you do this to me?!"

"do what?" i demanded, wondering why i was even bothering with this conversation.

"make me think you were gone forever! that you wasn't comin' back! i thought, i thought.." he trailed off, sniffling.

oh jesus, is he crying?

"okay, marshall, i think you should just hang up the phone and lie down," i tried to persuade him in the sweetest voice i could muster.

"you can call me again tomorrow, okay?"

i sounded like i was talking to a toddler, and i basically was.

i heard a barely audible, "uh-huh," before he hung up.

that was interesting.