Interracial short story surrounding a couple trying to overcome a rough patch in their relationship due to do Evie’s deep insecurities with any woman coming near her boyfriend, Warren, until one of her actions, sends her running and almost costs her – her life.

“NO!” She cried out snatching her arm away, taking off at the same time running as far as she could deeper into the area. Turning several corners to lose him. ‘Oh God, where am I?’ She thought afraid, then out loud. “Warren, why didn’t you come for me? I told you I was sorry.” She whimpered despondent. Again looking around for a phone. Finally up ahead she spotted a phone booth. Quickly she ran to it. Closing the broken fold door with her inside. Standing within, she looked around herself. Down the block the L train raced over head, it’s brakes screeching as it made a curve on the tracks. Her teeth began to chatter from the cold chills to her body as well from fear. ‘Call Warren, Evelyn!’ Her mind screamed. Grabbing the phone, she reached for a purse she was not carrying. She had no pockets, so there would be no change. For a moment she couldn’t think of what to do next. ‘Call the operator. Call collect!’ immediately she pressed the “0″. There was nothing happening on the line. It was dead.

Trying not to panic, she suppressed the line breaker several times praying for a dial tone. Finally, it came. Again she dialed the “0″. The operator finally came on line. “Please help me. I need to make a collect call to a Warren Devries. Area code 773-555-0088.” Impatiently she waited as the operator attempted to put the call through. The phone began to ring. It rang and rang. And rang and rang. No answer. No one was there to take her call. Slowly she hung up the phone. She felt lost. Utterly alone. With her head down leaning on the phone receiver, again she shivered, her teeth clicking. How could an evening that began so joyful, turn so horrid. She knew. Her mouth. Her insecurities. Her need to crash the joy of others. Just a few short hours ago, she and Warren had been playful, laughing. Dashing for the shower after their afternoon tete-a-tete. Afraid they’d be late for the dinner party. Arriving she felt them the best looking couple at the party. Warren in his Armani suit, 5′11, with a lean, solid, whipcord build. Warren was a beautiful black man. Every woman that laid her eyes on him knew it. He had a carriage, a manner about him that transcended any man she’d ever known in her life. His smile was bright white, and sparkling. His laughter contagious. His eyes, those eyes… amber brandy brown and mesmerizing. His skin, a rich flawless brown that she stroked in wonder and yes, sometimes awe and worship.

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