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Old November 13th, 2002, 12:38 AM   #53
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Join Date: Feb 2001
Posts: 1,159
When the phone rang at two in the morning, I knew, just knew in the way I know my name or my address that it was my son calling. But at six when I awoke with a start, a start as if someone had hurled a glass of ice water into my face, I knew that the phone had not rung at all, that I have no son named Jake, that I'd been dreaming. I threw back the covers and sat up, feeling with my toes for the slippers I leave beside my bed, but they were not there. My slippers, the red felt ones that always, always stay beside my bed where I leave them at night and slip back into them in the morning. Not there. I looked across the room to where the TV sat on my dresser, and on the screen were the KNBC morning anchors--Ken and whatshername. Muted. My heart froze in my chest, and I smelled the odors of breakfast. Bacon, maybe, or ham frying. From somewhere deep in the house, a male voice called, "Mom?"
We must travel in the direction of our fear. --John Berryman
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