0033: Who will pick up?

0033: Everly stares at the floppy pink paper in her hand. Despite trying to dial it over twenty times, she always gets stuck at the long number in the middle.

She has to memorize it. Everly’s thumb nail tracks each rip in the page as she counts.  

“1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 NINE.”

Nine. Nine. Seven ate nine. Like the old nursery rhyme.

Credits roll up the dark screen of the TV. The bright letters work against gravity to move up, up and away. Another episode of Law and Order starts up. The drums beat, as if to dare her to try dialing again. 

Everly approaches the payphone. She wipes her clammy hands down her prickly dress and presses the first few numbers. She gets to the long one. “Seven, eight, nine.” Nine. Finally, she has typed in all 10 digits. 

Her big toe drills into the soul of her high heels, pulsing, nervous. 

The metallic line crackles and, finally, rings.