Thirteen
In my sleep, I heard a pounding.
I woke up with a start. Light streamed through the windows of my room. I looked at myself. I still had on my clothes from the night before, including my shoes. I sat up and ran my hand through my hair. I had fallen asleep without knowing it.
The pounding again. Someone calling my name. It was the front door. Pulling myself together, I went downstairs. Opening the door, I encountered a very flustered and somewhat angry Anna.
“You pick today not to answer your phone, Tom?” she said, brushing past me.
I rubbed my face. “Sorry, I left it downstairs. Have you been trying to call long?”
“Since seven this morning,” she said, looking at me with her hands on her hips.
“What time is it now?”
“Almost nine,” Anna said. She paused and looked
