She carefully set her can of Pepsi down on the grime smeared bench under the phone, not wanting to spill a drop of the liquid within. She'd used almost her last bit of money to buy it, making a choice between that and a bar of chocolate. She had tried to remember whether death came faster from thirst or hunger, and although at the time she was sure she had made the right choice, now she wasn't convinced. Her stomach shouted angrily at her, the ravenous wolf inside clawing and snarling, making her clutch her belly in pain.
It didn't matter. She had one coin left, and she had decided it was time to use it. The payphone, providing it didn't swallow her last fifty pee, might just save her. Would save her, if he answered. If he deigned to speak with her. If, if, if...
She swallowed, her throat sore from stress and illness. She grimaced, clutched the coin fiercely, and kissed it for luck. Then it was gone, engulfed by the thing which could put her through to him.
What was she going to say? I'm sorry. I love you. Help me. I think I'm sick. Dying. I don't know what to do. I need you. None of the above.
Part of her knew it was too late for any of it. That he was beyond caring now. That he probably had given up on her. And yet, she dialled.
"Hello?" he said.