“Why did you call me?”
My voice is harsh, not the reassuring, soothing tones I’d used as I hurriedly locked up the shop and hailed the nearest taxi.
Now he’s sitting up in bed, sipping the tea I’ve made for him, still grey, but not the ghastly pallor I’d seen when urgently summoned to his new apartment.
“I needed you,” he says.
But after calling the medics on his phone, I couldn’t resist checking his outbox.
“I love you,” he’d texted, “with all my heart.”
“Why didn’t you call her?”
The words hung, unspoken.
I didn’t want her to see me like this.
In the absence of any help from Google, I’ve decided to hedge my bets and construe this as a shop of some kind. I await enlightenment from my cousins across the pond… 🙂 (And I chose to ignore the garlic as I’ve got an aversion to vampire stories.) Thank you to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers. If I were a pedant I might just point out you were seven minutes late posting the link this morning. Fortunately, I’m not… 😉