The Call Drops

Claire's thumb hovers over the keypad, her eyes locked on Warren's, the wig a blonde accusation on the table between them. Warren's fingers close around the cage key in his pocket, the metal warm, as he opens his mouth to lie. The belt buckle presses cold against his spine, and Claire's other hand moves to his collar, fingers brushing the hidden leather. She says, 'Last chance, Warren,' and her thumb moves to the call button. He hears the dial tone before he finds the words, the room shrinking to the sound of her breathing.