Scriptwriter

Scriptwriter.
L.M.Robbins.

He sighs at the blinking name,
Catchin’ it in his gut…
…On the fourth ring, he answers.

“Hello.”
…
“Yeah i’m fine, an’ you?”
…
“Ah, good. What? I’m not whispering…the reception is poor.”
…
“You’re breaking up…I can’t hear you. What was that?”
…
“Oh, that? It’s…yes; healed now, thanks. I’m smiling. I’ll send a pic soon.”
…
“No, it’s the reception…I’m just…far, far away.”
…
“I didn’t mean distance, I meant… it’s not important.”
…
“Yes. Like I said, i’m fine…Even you wouldn’t recognize me now.”
…
“No I can’t. I’m goin’ to stay awhile longer.”
…
“When will I come home? Soon. Maybe Christmas. I can’t say.”
…
“What was that? I can’t hear you…you’re breaking up.”
…
“Oh…Oh yes…yes. The same to you…yes.”
…
“B’bye, b’bye.”