LATE KNIGHT CALL

by: Karen B.

It was a warm summer night. A southern wind blowing in through my open window scuttled the newspaper I'd been reading across the table.

I caught my reflection in the glass, as I took a small sip of strong black coffee. My reflection looked worn-out -- like he needed a holiday, like he needed a cold shower, like he needed a whole new life.

Disgusted, I put down my cup and stared at the phone. Suddenly, I started shivering. The sensation drawing around me like a dirty wet blanket.

It was a cold I knew too well.

I grabbed the phone and dialed.

"Hello."

"Hey."

"You sound tired."

Damn it, Starsky made me.

"You're paranoid," I told him.

"Am I?"

"I'm wiped out." I had to come clean.

There was a long pause.

"Need some candy?"

Bingo! Starsky knows. I don't want him to know, but he does.

"That's ridiculous," I lied.

"Is it?"

Another pause.

I shut my eyes, my hand holding the receiver was trembling hard.

"I'll probably be fat and toothless by the time this passes," I admitted.

"Probably -- be right there. Just hold tight, okay, partner?"

"Okay." I nodded and hung up the phone, feeling better already.

The End

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