"how was it?" he questions the second he picks up.
"huh?" i question, plopping down on my creaky bed.
"the snow?" he reminds me, instantly it clicks in my head.
"great, but i'm sick." i mumble, taking a sip of my instant soup.
"i'm sorry about that." he apologizes, sounding a bit distracted.
"i don't care, it was great." i assure him, rubbing my freezing nose.
"i'm glad you had fun." he replies, hiding something.
"what is it?" i question, rubbing my eyes. i sniffle, hoping not to disgust him.
"nothing!" he answers a bit too quick. i sign, at least he's not grossed out.
"tell me!" i push, wanting to know what he's hiding from me. it must be important.
"it's nothing to worry about." he insist, making me feel suspicious.
"i should go!" he adds, and before i can muster a goodbye, he hangs up.
YOU ARE READING
wrong number !! phan
Short Story"wrong number." says a familiar voice. (a/n look sis i wrote this when i was a dumbass kid and like 15 years old. this shit is tough. i romanized depression and suicide and honestly i'm a dumbass bitch ass whore. i'm toxic and feel free to cancel me...
