"Hey Beautiful"
"Hey—" "Hey, beautiful," I interrupted. Sarah's line was mostly quiet except for her breathing. She cleared her throat in the way she did when she was trying to gain control of her emotions. I pushed through my own emotional barrier and dared to repeat myself while clutching my chest. "Hey beautiful." "Stop." So I stopped. I could now hear Sarah quietly crying. I could picture her sniffling and holding the phone away from her face and maybe she was in the bathroom doing her makeup because I could almost hear that familiar, slight echoey sound. I imagined her replying, "None of my other friends tell me this," or "Thank you I needed to hear this". And I think she knew I would've respond in my curt, dismissive way—the way I did when trying to suppress my discomfort— "Just calling it like it is." So instead she said nothing. But I wished she had said something. Because I had prepared to subvert her expectation...