Cigarettes in a red room.
Fuck! The whole room is in darkness, with my thin hand I reach out for the lamp and turn it on. The black dark immediately became red. Red was better, it was my own.How could I have been so stupid? What if he had called me while I was sleeping? But then I would probably have heard it, or not. Maybe I was in deep shit. I believe it's called coma. My uncle was in a coma once, when I was a little girl. I suppose that he couldn't hear the phone then. What if he had called to tell me that he'd left her, but I didn't even pick up the phone because I was on coma.
Coma, that's really deep shit. I started to feel angry and a little nervous for missing a call that probably haven't even been called. As grandma used to say: " You can never be sure enough."
To calm down my feelings I took one of my many cigarettes. It's strange that my refrigerator doesn't contains tobaco at all. With a quik touch on my lighetr and the cigarett was litten. The smoke rose slowly up and the smell passed in through my nostrils. I let it pass out. My feelings were in control now, at least a little.
I looked at the room. Maybe I should change the wallpaper to something darker, like....
"RRRR"
Suddenly the phone rang. I knew that it was him before I saw that it was his number. What should I do know? Pick up the receiver or...Fuck!
Short story by Chantraine
Read 866 times
Written on 2005-08-17 at 19:22
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by ChantraineLatest textsRazzle DazzleTo kill A black man's tale. You? After this |
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