The room is bright and hot and stuffy. The lights blaze down on the growing plants as the walls close in on me. The shadows from the corners get closer with every fleeting millisecond it takes to scroll through my contacts and find his name.
Time stands still and then rushes forward each time the phone rings and no one picks up on the other end. What is he doing tonight?
"Please. Please. Please," I whisper even though I'm alone in the room.
The call switches to voicemail and I hang up staring at my screen as if somehow, it's his electronic device's fault and not his.