'Dripping With Disdain'

  The cool fall night was biting at my bare feet as I stood on my porch. My right hand was holding my cell phone to my ear, while the left was busy fighting off mosquitoes, but I might as well have used both in defense. Nothing was said during the past couple minutes. Every now and then I heard what I thought was static. Were you crying? Were those muffled sniffles? If only a tear falling down your face made an audible noise, I could have known for sure. From what was seemingly a quiet, dull moment, one that could possibly end the last few months came something I have wanted to hear from you for quite a while. Those muffled sniffles tickled my ears. For the first time, I knew you cared.