“I do not believe you will not still kill me,” I say into the phone
and she replies, “But once you and I were lovers.” I roll my eyes
and reply, “First of all, this is not so. You tried to kill me with an axe
just last night. Second of all, lover? Who are you, Danielle Steel?”
“This is Danielle Steele,” I hear after a brief, terse silence.
She is softer now, not just in volume. She says, “I’m sorry
about the axe. I was just looking for a new twist on an old thing.
Please understand.” I hang up and draw with crayons a vine
that grows from itself and twists into itself, still unsure of its shape.