[ much to his general misfortune this evening, there seemed to be a rash of actual answers. of actual voices. (no prerecordings. no requests to submit personal information. no empty dial tones. no confused menus in languages he barely began to understand.) and it is, without trying, a newer pattern. something else that emerges. (and though there is no clear placement of it, not yet, he can only assume that --)
but, the way this call is greeted stalls him. no "hello", no questions. no inquiries. no requests to know his name and know why it is he's called. (and for a long moment, he says nothing. for a long moment, he might only think to say nothing. words lodged and words stumbled. words hidden away in the sudden derailing of predictability. and for a longer moment, he thinks of some answer - and the way it is delivered seems mismatched to his voice. strangely young. boyish. ) ]
( phone call. )
but, the way this call is greeted stalls him. no "hello", no questions. no inquiries. no requests to know his name and know why it is he's called. (and for a long moment, he says nothing. for a long moment, he might only think to say nothing. words lodged and words stumbled. words hidden away in the sudden derailing of predictability. and for a longer moment, he thinks of some answer - and the way it is delivered seems mismatched to his voice. strangely young. boyish. ) ]
... Wrong number.
[ ... well, he tried? ]