"Viola." The long-missed man's voice and form of address made Viola Harris's nose sting, and something uncontrollable began to roll down from her eyes.
She covered her mouth, pressing all the sobs into her throat.
Through the phone came the sound of Finn Wilson exhaling smoke, a light, lingering flow of breath, easily triggering her memories.
Back when they were together, he liked to light a cigarette leaning against the headboard after making love. At those times, she enjoyed lying naked in his arms, her ear against his chest, listening to the sound inside his chest as he smoked.
Viola Harris didn't speak, and Finn Wilson said nothing more, both silent.
After a long while.
She composed herself and asked with the calmest voice: "Does Mr. Wilson need something?"
"After so long, how have you been?"
"Very good, thank you for your concern."
Silence again.
