Inspired by Schuyler Fisk's 'Hello'.
I own neither the song nor the works of J.K Rowling.
The handset is heavy in her fumbling digits and it slips, surging to the cracked floor in a gust of pent up frustration. It lands and smashes into crystalline smithereens, the razor edged plastic latching maliciously onto her naked feet.
She screams to no one and slams a pale open palm against the splintered kitchen table. The once brilliant worn wallpaper reverberates the desperate howl and she clatters blindly in the cutlery drawer for her wand.
(She had always been a hurricane of curse words and ink blots)
She repairs the traitorous apparatus and punches in the number resplendently tattooed in the black abyss behind her eyelids.
(She deplores her faltering nerves and stuttering resolve, unsure whether it is she or the room spinning)
With each ring her feverish heart beats a more violent rhythm against her ribs, the internal symphony crashing unheard on her own deaf ears.
(She hopes he's forgotten the muggle device she installed in his home all those hazy summers ago)
But his gruff, east-end accent peals out from the speaker.
"Mar?"
She hangs up.
(It had been too long anyways)
~Fin~