phone

It can’t be that hard.

He could ask Orlando to help him but David is still angry with him so that’s probably not a good idea.

Why can’t people just get along?

And besides –

He feels a bit embarrassed. It’s not like a phone is that hard to use. He’s just never used one before. They didn’t have one, him and Callie, and – well – he can’t really use it right, now can he?

But now he has to, cause David was gone when he and Orlando got back and he’d only left a scrap of paper with a cell phone number.

So the next morning, before going over to Jason’s, he goes into the phone booth on the corner. Just to get an idea about what he has to do to make the thing work.

It seems easy enough. You get the right coins, dial the right number, and if there are any money left when you are done the machine spits them back out.

Easy.

It has grown dark before he gets to the phone booth that evening and there’s a woman standing inside. That’s okay. It gives him time to consider what to do. David had once said that if anybody called him and didn’t say anything he’d know it was Clay.
But maybe he’s forgotten that.

Or maybe he doesn’t really want Clay to call in which case silence is a bad idea because silence is just absence, at least when you cannot see the other person’s face.

It has to be something that says both “it’s me” and “I’m thinking about you” and “take care if you’d rather not speak again”.

The lady is done with her call and Clay gives her a shy smile as she holds the door open, letting him get in.

He puts his backpack on the floor, gets out the paper and the coins, and dials the number carefully.

It rings. Loudly.
Very loudly.

Then it gets picked up but it’s a woman’s voice, telling him which number he has dialled and that he can leave a message after the beep.

It comes.

The line hiss.

The evening is cold and busy. Filled with the noise of traffic and too many people, all of them strangers.

Clay hesitates for a second before letting the song of first a blackbird and then a nightingale fill the silence.

Then he hangs up.

Topic: Which sense would you rather lose?

That’s a difficult question.

Taste I think.

Cause I wouldn’t want to be blind. To not be able to see people. Places. Trees.
And I wouldn’t want to not be able to hear. Because I like listening to music, and the trees the waves. And people.
I have to be able to feel, otherwise I wouldn’t be much use as a carpenter. You need to be able to feel the wood under your hands. Wouldn’t be of much use in bed either.

I guess I don’t really think about my sense of smell much, but when you’ve got a cold nothing tastes right and that’s because your nose is all blocked up. So losing smell would be losing taste as well. Better one than two, then.

Of course, eating is pretty dull when nothing taste like anything, but it is better than the other options.


Muse: Clay
Fandom: Passion of Darkly Noon (Misc. Movies)
Count: 145