Fletcher swore the number of telephone rings he was listening to must have surpassed forty by now. He slunk into the recliner and let the receiver drop away from his ear, but not far enough away so he wouldn’t hear if Emily finally answered. He sighed, exhaling both air and the last shred of hope that she would pick up. He tried to tell himself that she wasn’t home, to make himself feel better, but he knew that was wishful thinking.
When he was sure the number of rings had now stretched close to sixty, he closed his eyes and contemplated returning the receiver to the cradle. But what if she wasn’t ignoring me? What if she was in the shower and just couldn’t hear the phone and would answer the moment she shut off the water? He was terrified that if he hung up, it might be a fraction before
