One Ringer by: j.l. carey jr. The clock loomed high on the wall above the phone. It hung there like the moon over a grave on an old B movie poster. Ominous. I could feel the second hand crawling with the sweat down my back. It was hot as hell in that room, but I couldn’t seem to stop shaking. “So do you have any kids?” he said, breaking Luna’s silent ticking. “Um. Yes. Yes I do,” I told him. “I have a daughter.” “Yeah,” he said, rolling his head from the ceiling to the floor. “Yes,” I replied...
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