Ruth looked at the bottle. Three quarters was gone. The remainder was shouting out her name…loudly.
Her mobile lay next to her. She wondered if they were all in league – it was calling too.
Harry.
Quiet, irascible, irresistible…Harry.
The phone screamed 'call him'.
The rioja roared 'NOW'!
Unbidden her hand stretched out, reaching for the handset, fingertips feathering the keys, knowing the number. Conscious thought uncalled for.
"Harry…" she murmured, as the ringtone ended, her thumb hovering above the disconnect.
"Ruth?" he replied, hesitatingly.
And then her brain froze, her mouth moved with no sound evolving.
It was Harry. She was talking to Harry. She was about to say something overwhelming to him, something true, something undeniable, something irrefutable.
"Harry…."
"Yes, Ruth?'
And the silence between them hit like a tidal wave and she was drowning, floundering, reaching for solid ground, which just wasn't there.
"Ruth, please say something."
And she tried….she really tried.
Her mouth opened, inhaling the thin surrounding oxygen and as her lungs expanded she finally, haltingly began to speak.