|The lamp is on.
Gillian's wrist is wedged between the covers of a book, that worry has ensured
she cannot read. "Where could he be?" She stares
at a digital clock, its numerals incandescent. "1:35. He should be home. I'll
wait another minute." She concentrates on the red-lit
5... waits for
it to change... reaches toward the receiver...
6... and dials.