The Call
Who answers their phone these days? Too many spam calls or charity muggers. But that day when my phone, on silent as normal, jittered across the glass coffee table, the caller ID made me frown.
It was my own number.
Before I knew what I was doing, I swiped and pressed the handset to my ear.
‘Who…’ said a robotic voice, with long pauses between each word.
‘Do
You
Want
Dead?’
I gasped and threw down the phone on the couch. My heart clattered as it bounced on the faux suede.
‘Who was that?’ he said, without looking up from his own phone.
‘No one,’ I said, attempting to sound casual. ‘Scam call.’
‘Bastards,’ he mumbled but I was barely listening.
I stared down at the black mirror on the couch. My reflection distorting back at me.
I picked up the handset with one hand. Squeeze my bottom lip with the other. Thumb through to recent calls. Hover over the last number. My number.
Faces strobe through my mind. Him. Her. Them. Past and present. Family. Friend. Foe.
Where should I start?
