[Another day, another response to a Daily Post prompt: Bad Signal
The voice on the message unmistakably belonged to my former husband, but his words were undetectable. He sounded weak, unsure of himself as his mutters percolated in my ear; I could only make out the word collier before he paused, and \collected himself.
“I’m sorry.” There was, however, no hint of apology in his voice. “I should’ve told you months ago. Bye.”
I pressed the power button on my phone, locking the screen. And for a moment, gave serious consideration to calling him back, allowing myself to be pulled into the latest of his melodramas.
“You coming to lunch today?” I looked up at the sound of Raphael’s voice, saw his bright face leaning into my cubicle, his right foot half-way past the entrance.
I lifted my purse, slid the phone into an outside pocket, and rose from my chair. “Sure.”