She speaks forgotten Spanish through a hole in the wall

The receiver is astir with information as pertanant as nothing

She was what she is and will become

 

                Fingers trace the dials and strike a chord. Now he’s imagining fingers on the other end. A VOICE. “Hello.” KEEP STEADY. REMEMBER THE PREPLANNED STATEMENTS, THE IMPENDING PHRASES, THE EMOTION. REMINISCENT AS IF OVER A GLASS OF WINE.

“So, what did you call for?” WATCH YOUR PAUSES. STOP PAUSING. ACT FRANTIC. FIEND NERVOUSNESS. Wait. You are entirely nervous. She knows this already. She knows it all. She is as the prophets that we read, and dream of being. She is intricately knowing. Will she still delight in the control that she has forged?

“Levin, I’m hanging up if you don’t say anything…these calls are really starting to creep me THE FUCK out.”

“THESE CALLS,” as if horribly frequent; as if burdening. Is it that simplistic? Have I become redundant? The great repeating machine repeats himself to absurdity. Or at least to the point where intimate calls are severed, as they are entitled “these calls.”

“Hi…Leah.” YOU SOUR FOOL. YOU ARE NOTHING WITH THAT RESPONSE. Make her drink every last word from smooth plastic. “I thought that I would call you.” OVERLY EVIDENT. BRIGHT NEON LIGHTS.

“I know.”

“I know that you know.”

“Well then, what?”

“Will you come over soon…sometime soon…TONIGHT” But you didn’t shout it did you. You just let it hang there, as if to be plucked away by a careless child, with nothing but careless thoughts. RATHER, NO THOUGHTS AT ALL. Where is the passion? The excitement? Why have you buried it? Why does it burden you as you try to sleep at night? It is as boisterous gas bubbles within the chest. It is a heavy woolen breath, disturbed…saturated with engine lubricant.

“If you want me to?” YOU DID IT YOU SOUR FOOL. YOU FINALLY DID IT. NOW, DON’T FUCK THIS UP…DON’T…

“Well, I mean, you are probably tired, considering that you just got off of work…why don’t you come over some other time.” WHY ARE YOU REFUTING YOURSELF? WHY HAVE YOU CLIPPED THE WINGS YOUNG STARLING?

Inevitably confused, “Well…I’m hanging up now.”

INEVITABLY, THE REFUTATION. How does one express silence [edit] mortification, in Spanish?