She hung up. In the end, the shadows from the telephone wire gave it all the charm of a noose hanging by Michael’s side. Limp, a ghostly reminder.
“Please, Sal,” he whispered, stripped of his senses by the eidolon girl.
The dark recesses of his flat replayed her tipsy sing-alongs; the murky kitchenette throbs. He’d rather feel the pulsations of her voice. Now his blood had congealed to a heartbroken mess, stepping into an empty world.
“Come on, Sally, come on!” he gasped.
Heart crushing his ribs, the monotonous flatline sickened every fibre in him.
Please hang up and try again…
Ah, yes; a very impressive bitter-sweet tale of love unrequited. Good job!