crosses a line. One quick motion — the back of his hand striking Harold’s cheek. The sound lands harder than the blow itself. Harold’s cap hits the floor. The room freezes in disbelief.
Harold doesn’t lash out. He simply picks up his cap, smooths it off, and replaces it. Then, in a voice that hasn’t wavered once, he says to Darlene, “May I use your phone, dear?”
She hands it over. He dials, speaks quietly for a moment, then returns to his seat. The only sound left is the ticking of the clock.
The Call That Changed the Room
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