The only thing he wanted to say to her was shut the fuck up. Never mind that her voice suggested that she was attractive and around his age---it was three in the fucking morning… and she was a complete stranger. Even at the appropriate time, on a good day, he could care less about anything this chick had to say, especially if was about her cheating-son-of-a-bitch boyfriend and the super slut he had on the side. Guys cheat. If she was, indeed, his age that was a fact she should’ve been well aware of by now and her ignorance (which was really her stupidity) was God punishing her for not going out and buying a fucking clue. He had to be up in two hours, he didn’t have time for this shit.

“…I mean, a Tiff and Co diamond necklace? I can’t afford something like that and he’s such a cheapskate I know he’d never get me something that expensive---even though my birthday is coming up, maybe he got it to surprise me? We’ve been together for almost six years… if high school counts… that doesn’t count huh? He didn’t get me that necklace did he? It’s hers, it’s that disgusting whore’s necklace. And I touched it. I… touched… it.” And now she was crying. Sobbing. Loud, throaty sobs.

What to say? That he’d rather cut his dick off than hear a woman cry? He was feeling extra irritated at the moment, but he’d been brought up better than that. Cursing at a strange woman, hanging up on a woman who was obviously in need of someone to talk to went against his polite upbringing. Instead he sighed. Fumbled for the lamp beside him until the room glowed with yellow light. Sat up, switched the receiver to his right ear, and massaged his forehead.

“I’m sorry…” He could appreciate the apology. “…I’ve just been feeling for quite some time that something was wrong. I thought it was work, the stress of going for that promotion---I never would’ve thought it was another woman. A woman who wears Tiffany’s. Like I could ever compete with someone like that… pfft. Yeah, right.”

“Yeah. Right.” Wait. What? It was sleep deprivation, the interruption of much needed sleep… why else would he be saying, “I don’t know who this jerk off is---I don’t even know who you are---but you sound sweet and… pretty… and totally and completely devoted to this guy which is more than any creep could ask for. It’s not about competing with Tiffany’s, you’re worth more than that… it’s about finding someone who deserves you.”

A pause. A few sniffles. A moment of wondering: what the fuck just happened? Why did I say that? And then, “Thanks. I don’t know how I screwed up Izzy’s number, but I’m glad I did. Thank you.”

Another pause. One last sniffle. A glance at the clock that read 3:36.

He rolled his eyes. “No problem.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

A dial tone that leaves both of their identities unknown.