It's ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. STOP it from ringing!
Karla never wanted to hear his voice again. Never wanted to hear that damn ring of the public phone at on the corner of East and Cherry. Never wanted to wait again; to see if he'd call, usually he wanted money. Always for drugs. Drug money. Meth money. That idiot, he was killing himself, and now he wanted their son. Brian wouldn't even look at Gray when he came to the lobby of their high rise, his dad was always high, red-eyed, and stumbling. They used the pay phone in case the feds were listening, Gray made them all paranoid with his Meth-talk. Meth-talk. That shouldn't even be a word, thought Karla, but that's what she called it.
When the phone rang again she ripped the Pepsi can out of little Brian's hand and threw it at the receiver, both fell to the ground. Karla heard sirens and screaming at the other end, "Kar, Bri, you there?"