"Pearl," I mumbled her name that moment she picked up the phone. She remained quiet. "Pearl," I whispered again.

"I'm here," she whispered, as if testing her voice.

"How are you, my Pearl?" I asked. I wanted to ask her about where did she went after she saw me. I wanted to ask her what did she eat for lunch. I wanted to ask her if she was holding her phone while she's driving. I wanted to ask a lot of things, and 'how are you?' summed them all somehow.

"Just fine," she replied blandly, and I flinched. Just fine?

"And how's work?"

"Also fine."

Ask me about how I'm doing, Pearl.

"You got an extra tip today?"

"No. I don't need it."

"Oh."

She breathed. I closed my eyes, imagining her. I imagined her breathing next to me.

"I miss you."

"Me too," she replied after a minute of silence. She didn't say I miss you.

"Pearl."

"Hunter."

"I want to kiss you."

"I think you already are fed up from kissing that bitch of yours."

"Pearl--"

And then I heard the boring ringtone again.

She was no longer on the other side of the line.

Pearl swore.

I want Pearl.