The Call by Angela Thomas I get the call. It's 2:12AM, my friend is half asleep on my couch, wrapped up like a burrito, buried in the cracks of the black leather. I'll come over. I know that this is a dick thing to do, running off in the middle of the night, contact case in hand, so I don't have to sleep alone. AM time is always a strange time. The conversations turn to sour cream and true love, my hands turn to churn butter, or something richer, buried just underneath my skin, like how your stomach feels under silk. 02/28/2004 Posted on 02/28/2004 Copyright © 2026 Angela Thomas Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2026 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)