People think you’re crazy, she said. They think you lost it. A friend told me you were slipping. I stuck up for you. Told her you’ve never been sharper.

I don’t know, he spoke into the phone. Been thinking lately that none of this matters, he said. Life’s just kind of a dream. You’re going along, and one day, you wake up. That’s when you start realizing that none of this is real. Painted pictures. All life is painted pictures.

You’re talking metaphorically, she said, lit a cigarette, and blew out smoke. Anytime a person talks metaphorically, they’re talking crazy. This is what folks are saying. Telling me you’re speaking in riddles. She started pacing the kitchen.

I talk the way I talk, he yelled.

Hey. Don’t get angry with me. I’m not the one. Trying to help you. Trying to make sense of it all.  You want help? I’ll help you. You don’t? I won’t. 

I don’t need anyone’s help. I’m fine. He slammed the phone down.  He sat in the recliner and stared at the ceiling. Looked at a wooden beam and wondered if it was strong enough.

The phone rang and rang. It wouldn’t stop ringing. He laid the receiver on the end table.

Hello. Hello. Hello.