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Phone Call

Sandra and I walked into a restaurant on a street corner of Manhattan. As the door swung open, the strong smell of grease entered my nose. I instructed Sandra to stay at a table and order something small like a water.
I walked over to a waitress. “Do you gotta a bathroom?” I asked her. Her eyes moved from my face to my feet, and she pointed to the bathroom.
I entered the bathroom, and went to the mirror. My eyes looked tired and gray.
Suddenly, my pants’ pocket began to vibrate, and I realized that I had brought my cell phone with me. I swallowed slowly and picked up the phone.
“H-hello?” I answered, stuttering a little. “Where the hell are you, you dirty little rat?! What the hell possessed you to run away!? And with that girl! Now her damn parents are callin me up, asking me where you took her!” The voice yelled.
I knew that voice. It was dad. “I’m not coming back.” I said. “Someone else wants to talk some sense into you” He said calmly. All of a sudden, the line got quiet.
“Jaymie?” It was a woman.

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