The phone rang. And rang. The inside of the apartment was still and full of dust. Most of the shades were drawn and the kitchen was dark. A cat sat outside a cracked-open window. It was longhaired and gray and it pushed its squashed-in face under the gap and uttered a croaky meow. It stuck a matted paw inside, pushing a loose piece of paper off the coffee table and onto the floor. Beside its curled-up tail was a turned-over empty bowl. The cat crouched down and tried to worm through the gap. It yowled.

BEEP.

“Hey, Rhi, it’s Steve again. Man oh man, where the fuck are you? Ronnie’s starting to get itchy and the brass is coming down on him about all the missed appointments. Ronnie said he came by your place this afternoon and knocked a few times and he’s threatened to call the police if you don’t call someone by eight. He said you locked Mirage outside. What the hell’s up with that? I know you love that cat. I guess he’s all dirtied up with dried leaves and shit. Ronnie fed him some tuna and he went just about crazy. Well he said he’s gonna come by tonight and pick him up and take him home if you haven’t called. So I’m gonna leave another message on your cell. You had better not be lying in a ditch somewhere. Come on, girl. Gimme a call, okay? I’m starting to worry.”