a flashback with @margotdayal }
Shaking hands unhooked the glittering, pink ribbon charm dangling from her burner phone. She clenched the charm in her palm, the gold and moon-shaped plastic glued to the center of the ribbon leaving indents in her skin, as she let the man on the other line rant into silence. His voice stayed agitated for a long time and although he never said anything vulgar, his criticisms tore through her young heart: childish, naive, ditzy, and stupid.
And only when the man realized he’d perhaps gone too far, did his tone turn into something halfway apologetic. And by that time, he was too late.
Like the spring of a mousetrap set off, her arm snapped forward and pitched her phone into the park fountain. The phone clatters as it bounces off the black granite, cracks beyond repair, and sinks until it rests atop a bed of copper pennies.
“I'm gonna...gonna call the FBI and tell them what a jerk he is,” she sniffs. But, she knows that she could never turn in Gilbert for his crimes without exposing herself as an accomplice. “No, I’m gonna go on Good Morning America and tell them what a jerk he is.”
She fantasized about embarrassing the elusive diamond thief, who only she knew was an absolute jerk named Gilbert Gladstone. It almost brought a smile to her face. But then thought about how her first instinct was to tell the government and a talk show, rather than having friends, family, or even a group of real life ride-or-die Sailor Scouts to talk to.
“I don’t have anybody,” she said.
Dottie’s phone charm drops to the sidewalk as she covers her face with her hands.
