my voice cracks over the line when i ask for his name. the hard plastic. the receiver bringing in the knock against something hard. setting down. the noise knocks the heart right out of my chest. the words out of my body. pace. away from the slow drive humming from the dishwasher. mutter obscenities at starting it whirring before such a moment as this. at this reminder of the life that lives inside these walls. the thud from the book i throw across the room against the wall for no particular reason reaches into my left eye. deep into the socket. and waits. spreads slowly. distinctly. outward. the way frost consumes waiting surfaces in cold. he speaks my name on the other end. decisively. slightly guttural. as if he'd just made the transition from german. one sharp breath in. surprise. regret. delay. drop my tongue against the diphthong hanging in the air. hold it in my mouth like a heavy marble. cat's eye. got your tongue. i'm afraid of ants. i can't ride a bike. my eyes change color. i've never been stung. spelling the word restaurant causes me terror. only one of these front teeth is mine.