1

the princess smoked her cigarette and forgot her name.

inconsequential, she thought, someone would remember and call her.

the ringing of the phone faded, and she was sad to not reach it in time.

she lamented and forgave. it was udayan at 1:45. another drunk call. for some time, she considered malice.

then there was scotch in the kitchen and marijuana in the porch. night came and she found her sleep on her sister's bed.

in the morning, close to say ten, the phone woke her up again.

it was her friend. her name she forgot, and constructed her over the next few minutes. it was a shaking old woman on the other side, beneath a dead tree, snowflakes adding adding adding to the snow about. there was a phone reciever hooked via curled wire to the trunk. the light fell from her face, making shadow add and subtract from her face. she was marilyn monroe and then the grim reaper.

'did you hear, he met with an accident, last night?'

'who?'

'udayan?'

'oh, how is he?

'quite dead, as it turns out.'

'ohmigod', she said, turning the green plastic beads in her hands, 'that's dreadful.'

'how did it happen?'

'speeding truck took him out like a speeding rocket.'

'that's got to be grotesque. how did they know it's him?'

'forensic technology, baby.'

'pretty morbid, really, when did this happen.'

'twelvish, someone called someone at twelve to say.'

'hmmmm... now listen goodbye, i don't talk to strangers remember.'

'you're cruel.'

'you're elvis.'

'love you.'

'hmmmm.'

click. beep. beep.beep.

automatic phones lacked character. she resolved to check her mail and later find her hat.

she would have to investigate.