- 2.
My finger froze over the end call button.
Cars roared past on the busy street.
My throat was tight, and I stood there, glued
to the spot.
After a long, silent moment, I whispered, “It
doesn’t matter anymore.”
He practically laughed, a bitter sound.
“Doesn’t matter?
Yeah, figures.
<
Yean, nigures.
Someone like you, what matters besides
yourself?”
A sudden pang of hurt shot through me.
I lost focus.
A car horn blasted, sharp and loud.
Snapping back to reality, I realized I was
standing in the middle of the crosswalk.
The walk signal had long turned red.
A car screeched to a halt beside me.
The driver rolled down his window and yelled
something at me, his face red with fury.
L
I didn’t hear what he said.
Maybe it was the fading light, or something
else entirely.
My eyes burned, my vision blurred.
When the world righted itself, I made it to the
other side of the street.
The call had ended.
The familiar, long–gone voice was gone.
Like it had all been a figment of my
imagination.
