It was the same game every night. In a cheap hotel room in the middle of nowhere, Carlito pretended to be occupied by the movie playing on his television. He was always stranded somewhere he would rather not be, but in the end he really didn't mind. The time and the place never mattered as long as she called.
It was crazy, he knew it, but every time the phone rang he realized what he was living for -- her. Was she living for him? He hated to consider the possibilities of her life away from him but it was a question that plagued him in the silence he had to himself. A moment like the one he was experiencing. Frustrated and exhausted he closed his eyes and upon reopening them focused on the clock.
Two in the morning.
The shrill ringing of his cell phone was loud enough to wake a ghost and judging by the annoyed groans seeping in through the walls, it appeared that there were a few upset ghosts. Throwing his feet over the edge of the bed, Carlito leaned toward the night stand where the phone rested. A jumble of numbers, like the many times before. With a sigh he picked up the phone and pressed it against his ear and allowed his heartbeat to match the rhythm of the caller's breaths.
The beat of desperation.
There was an ache in his heart that nothing could match but still Carlito held onto the hope that he could hear it coming from the other side.
"Trish?" He pleaded to the breath in his ear, but the only reply he received was the sound of the ended call.
And in the end, history repeated itself. Memories of her shattered against the wall once again as his phone met its demise. As for her? She would never die. Like all the nights before, Carlito somehow fell alseep to a vision of his love's devilish smirk.