GOOSEBERRY PIE LIT MAGAZINE

Waiting on a Call

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood-Pexel

by Karen Crawford

Your old red rotary shrieks in the lull of night.

A scratchy crackling, a long whistling static, a hum of white noise. 

Dad? 

After 17 years, not even a word.

In the morning I wake up sad to the drip, drip, drip of black coffee.

A Jameson’s whiff of you.

__________

Karen Crawford lives and writes in the City of Angels, exorcising demons one word at a time. 

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