Fiction / November 2007 (Issue 1)


by Diana Louise Kwok

Her mobile rang. She picked up, but nobody said anything. The line went dead so she returned the call. She asked, 'What do you want from me?'

A voice she knew, but couldn't identify said, 'I want you to meet me in a room in a hotel. I want you to give me two hours of your time. You'll be back before anyone knows you've gone.' He spoke with a voice that was half saint, half rascal. A demanding voice rasping with passion.

He hung up the phone. She remembered she wasn't alone. She stood by the bedroom doors, listening. Her family were asleep. They wouldn't wake until it was light. So she put on her sneakers, and stepped out, into the night.
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