“This is the MCI operator with a collect call from Abby Titwhistle. Will you accept the charges?”
Abby’s boots slap against wet pavement, untied and dragging, as he bolts toward the payphone like the past might catch up and devour him. The overhead fluorescents flicker like dying stars. He feeds the slot coins like prayers — not enough. He checks the others. Empty. Fingers trembling, he dials zero.
