Brett Cavanaugh*
(327 words, 2 minutes read time)
Our chat ended abruptly. Her final words: “sorry, this session has timed out. It is now concluded and at its end. You should hang up right now, walk away, and carry on with your life, or perhaps you might call back later, like tomorrow…”
I knew better. I didn’t hang up. I knew better because Mandy had told me, that if I only waited to let the message repeat two more times, and continued to hold through the following silence, that there would be a final ‘click’ to convince callers that the line was dead.
I knew, and by holding on for just another eighty-six seconds of quiet, that her message would reconnect. “If you wish to continue, please call me, after work, on my home line- 867-5309. Leave a message.
“Don’t be fooled if my younger sister Elaine answers. She’ll tease and flirt with you, and she will pretend to be me. She’ll say things that I never would and try to come on to you. She’ll even try to meet you somewhere; usually the Starbucks on the corner near our house. But she is only sixteen. That’s way too young for you.”
Don’t’ forget that for the last two months Mandy has been my surrogate fiancé. That’s how I already knew all about her little sister Elaine and her tendency to mock promiscuity.
Whether this is true or not, I wouldn’t know. Only that my feelings are not entirely deterred by Mandy cautioning about her sister. It rather inadvertently reprises a hard to repress fantasy about one notorious lovely Rita and sitting on a sofa with a sister or two.
>~~~~~~O~~~~~~<
Online banking is fine, but, honestly, I must sneak away from wire taps and stake outs, if not just for thirty minutes or so. Sometimes I just miss interacting with real people: a shoe-salesmen, a hat check clerk… There is really nothing like standing in line to engage with good old fashioned teller service.
*private spy
>~~~~~~O~~~~~~<
-dalton
9-13-25
(302/328)
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