Cling, click: hang up. "No operator; wrong number; my fault."
You don't remember who you were trying to call, eyes drifting, unfocused, to the tearings of fashion magazines. Lamp is flickering on, uneasy shadows creeping back. Sudden glare on faces and features, lumpy, mildewed.
"Which side are you on?" the phone insists.
The receiver is hard against your ear, starting to bond. Entangled, fly-stuck. Is there a voice under all that chirruping? Shouldn't you have hung up by now? Pressure. Say something.