> Be Past Rose.
It had been several weeks (too long, really) since you'd last met up with Dave, and your contact had remained somewhat sparse since then. A few short phone calls were all you'd really been able to manage in the intervening time, and while a long phone call to catch up would be nice, you had been wondering for a few weeks, now that your junior year of high school was drawing to a close, whether Mother might let you make the trip down to Houston to visit him. She'd always sheltered you somewhat, and your blindness had only magnified that; hopefully, it might allow you a little independence to go somewhere on your own.
Picking up your phone from where it lay, your fingers glided naturally to his number, a chain of numerals you'd etched into your memory. The tone feels longer than ever as you wait, impatiently tapping your fingers against your thigh expectantly. Hopefully he'd answer.
