“ He shifts to turn on the radio, dialing it down low so as not to disturb Roseline’s rest. Classical music pours through his speakers. He leans back in his chair, his silky raven hair falling around his shoulders as he closes his eyes. He does not want to make this call. Sighing heavily, Malachi blindly types in the familiar numbers. He presses the phone to his ear and waits. The dial tone rings in his ear. His heart patters in his chest and a slight dampness clings under his arms. “H...ello?” Malachi takes a deep breath. “I need to speak with him.” No response, but none is needed. There is no question of whom he speaks. He waits, tethered to the silent connection. Sometimes the answer comes swiftly, other times it seems to drag on. The wait is always unbearable. His fingers tap against the rich mahogany desk. Its top is meticulously clean. Not one item is out of place, apart from the cylindrical object lying in the middle - the object he has yet to open. “Do you have something to report?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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