Drawing out a moment and defining it by its emotive parts, Eley Williams has crafted a short story that dances on the intimacies of human interaction. A mundane action becomes the swan song for the narrator and their counterpart.
Hang ups
I put my eye to the three holes in the telephone receiver. You are speaking and I am staring and the wire coiled through my fingers connects our present tenses.
You are using short sentences and I blink for each clause directly against the phone so that you might hear a kissing scrape of eyelashes. We are off the hook; I am quick to replace my eye with my mouth to calm you when the wheedles of your voice become pitched more urgently. Continue reading
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