"No, she's dead. This is her son." Kurt Hummel looks blankly at the fridge, leaning against the counter beside it and thrumming his fingers. He listens to the static when his mother's old dentist pauses.
The man, Dr. Carl whatever sputters nonsense for a second before saying awkwardly, "Oh, well, I I'm sorry, I hadn't heard. Well, um, if there-"
"Obviously, if you haven't heard about something that happened almost a decade ago, then your call wasn't about offering condolences. What do you want?" Kurt interrupted the man, having to listen to a static filled pause again. He sighs and folds one arm around his chest. "Since you asked for Mrs. Hummel, you're probably wondering about her check up needs or something. I'm guessing she doesn't need any dentil work done, so thank you for your call. Goodbye."
Kurt slams the phone down. His nose scrunches up and his chin rises. He glanced sideways out the window, staring at the falsely bright sunshine. The boy sneered unflatteringly before thumping down to his basement room.