Soft Walls Between Then and Now

She opened up her cellphone. The backlight reminded her of sex. The low murmur of that electricity usually dormant thoughtlessly coming alive from beneath her skin.

For her to see what buttons to press.

The ocean was loud at the back of her neck. Her yellow bike breathed quietly against the saline wind. People passed. So many people. And she noticed how they didn't notice her. Imagining herself sinking into the wall she sat upon; becoming as red as it.

Concrete.

Something soft left alone long enough to become hard.

She tapped in each number one at a time rather using the memory function. Imagining she was karmicly whispering in his ear.

Pick up.