This preview shows page 1. Sign up to view the full content.
Unformatted text preview: med glad to see me. Eighteen THE BRIGHT fluorescent lights of the station made an island in the dark swampland. The little phone booth was no more than a fold of plastic around a single chrome phone. The tiny square numbers were now a blur. She could no longer make them out, no matter what she did. Again came the busy signal. "Please try to cut in again," she asked the operator. "I have to reach Mayfair and Mayfair. There is more than one line. Please try for me. Say it is an emergency call from Rowan Mayfair." "Ma'am, they will not accept the interrupt. They are getting re- quests for interrupts from all over." The driver had climbed back up in his cab. She heard the engine start. She made a motion for him to wait, and hastily gave the operator the house number. "This is my home, punch it in for me, please. I can't . . . can't read the numbers." The pain came again, the tight wire of wraparound pain, so like a menstrual cramp, yet far worse than any she'd ever experienced. "Michael, please an...
View Full Document
This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10