The Sound of Her Voice

Andrew

Taking my phone down the hallway, I went into the little library across from my room that I never used and closed the door behind me.

“Bob,” I answered. “How are you doing?”

“Swell. How are you? Haven’t heard your voice in a while.”

“Yeah, things have been crazy.” I went to the window and looked down at the backyard, where the covered outside swimming pool and the dilapidated tree house I’d had built for Raven when she was five sat ignored. Maybe it was time to tear that old tree house down and build something in its place. A little studio for Raven, maybe?

“Crazy never stops,” Bob answered.

On his end, a phone rang. It could only be assumed he was at the office. Like me, Bob lived and breathed work. We’d known each other for years, having met at a work-related—of course—event years before.

Though we often went weeks without talking, he was my closest friend. The way we could connect after days of not talking was a testament to the strength of the friendship. Though he was a