As soon as he went out, i noticed a strange sound.
Being used to life in the city, i am constantly bombarded with all sorts of noise, so i didn’t pay much attention to it.
At least, i didn’t pay attention to it until i realised it was a voice. Distorted, like someone screaming into a microphone connected to a cheap speaker. The angry voice repeated the same thing over and over, but i could not make out wat the message was.
By the time i did figure it out, it was too late.
His car was gone, and because i knew he never went on foot, i knew also that he was far away already.
When i called his cellphone i heard an all too familiar sound coming from the couch.
Please, let this be the result of all those long island ice teas i had last night. Please, i do not want the voice to be right, i repeated in my head like a prayer.
Thirty minutes it took.
The doorbell rang, and i opened the door, hands shaking.
The voice had been right.
The two plain brown paper bags were filled.
But he had forgotten to buy milk