My heart raced, an insistent echoing.
You never see pay phones anymore.
The crowd swirled, a menagerie of personal terrors.
Of moments, fragmentary, shattering concerns.
But people don’t realise that personal isn’t the same as important.
My feet pounded at the cracked pavement, my breath came in ragged shards.
“She’ll call you back.”
This is important.
Written for this weekend’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt.