Right then, the phone rang. The transition from humming a slow, mellow rhythm, to listening to a loud, attentive ringer was really unpleasant. I headed for the receiver, but before I picked it up, I stood there, glaring at the number keys. It reminded me of Punnet Squares.

It rang about three or four times.

I quickly sighed and picked it up on its fifth ring, expecting nobody to respond.

"Hello?" I said.

Yeah, nobody. I couldn't hear anything. But it wasn't completely silent. I pressed the mic in my ear to try to hear the background noise. I heard the sound of footsteps. Like those high heel clicks. It was maybe some kind of insurance agent calling me from her office. I didn't know. Was the footsteps coming from her? Well, I knew that she was a woman at least.

"Hello?" I said again.

Not even a clearing of the throat. The whole reason why I was never fond of having a receiver in my home was because of this, exactly. I always hated how mu--

"Oh, hello?" a soft voice spoke from the mic into my ear canal.

"Who is this?" I asked. "And how do you know my number?"

"That is not important right now. What I need from you is to just accept my favor."

My mind switched its mode into confusion. "What favor?"

There was a pause.

... to be continued