Her phone rings at all hours day or night,
here in her flat or
even at the office,
she snatches it up to see who it is,
then tells me
"It's nothing,"
when it is something,
someone,
another friend or
enemy, even her stalker,
who for all her talk she seems to be attached to,
rereading his texts
over and over,
the way a Christian might bits of the New Testament,
especially the
apocalyptic parts
where the text predicts the end of existence,
each ring making me
jump a little
and wonder more about
just how popular she is
and how her whole life revolves around who might text her
next,
with only one thing
certain when I am with her,
it's not me on the
other end,
though I wonder if
she says to them
what she says to me late at night.
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