Did you hear me listening?

I know you had chicken chop because I didn't hang up the phone after you thought you did.

My face pressed against the window grills, I looked across the street at where you should be. Right there. The clattering of the background noise sounded almost melodic. Occasionally, you waltzed in and out of my ear. My eyes will close as I hold the phone closer, straining to hear every single treble of your voice. I could feel you, the image nearly complete.

Didn't matter that I was running late for my appointment. In that moment, time was running in the past tense, a destination that I couldn't catch, anyway.

Six, seven minutes went on in this long distance call, till you got lucky, I hello-ed to a numbing white sheet of silence, and the signal was lost.