"Nervous Breakdown"

I'm feeling a bit obsessed. The other day, I counted the lines in the brick fire place. Not all of them. Every other layer (157).

I studied, deeply, the colors of my socks. I'd thought they were grey (actually, they are threaded with steel blue).

Did you know that there are 38 lines in the ceiling vent? And that there is a little glass bowl of poupourri on the third tier of the bookshelf over the television. I'd never seen that before.

Today, I want to Sassy's and sat at the counter, where I usually sit. The waitress asked me if I wanted "the usual." I was surprised and pleased: I did want "the usual" -- gyro, fries and a Coke. I realized that whenever I order Italian, I order spaghetti and meatballs. And, I'm a Coke guy -- no Pepsi. I'll avoid Pepsi restaurants, even if I like the food. There's a whole Pepsi food court just across the street from my office -- I don't go there anymore.

Like I said: I'm obsessed.

Like the other day, when I got home from work and I noticed that my phone was making this crackling noise. I picked it up, and on the line were voices. Well, one voice, really. A woman.

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah."

"Well, me, too."

"I can go one better than that. I once caught a guy rifling through my pajamas. When I asked him what he wanted, he said he was looking for a pair of socks. But you know what?"

"No! He took a camisole."

"Yes I'm sure."

I hang up. Then I lift up the phone again.

"I won't do that."

"No, I won't."

"Not that either..." laughing.

"Speak for yourself!"

"Uh huh. Me too. Bye."

I hung up again. But over the next two days, I stared at the phone for eight hours -- four hours after work, two hours in the morning before work, two more that night, while eating a steak, cheese and bean burrito, waiting to hear the crackle again. Sometimes, I pick it up to see if she's on. But she never returned.

Today, I sat on the front porch of my apartment and watched for some sign... a voice, or a look. But there was none.

But tonight, she'll be back. I'm sure of it. I wait.

* * *

The phone rings. I pick it up, but I don't speak.

"I just have one question," her voice says on the other end.

"What?" my voice comes out like a croak -- I haven't spoken in...five hours.

"Did you hear?"

"I heard..."

"But did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Did you hear?" She is shouting and I shout back, more of a scream.

"Did you..." She screams again, and then the line goes dead.

I sigh, and leave a voicemail for my boss at work. I'm going to be here for awhile.

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