Becca Fitzpatrick. What are silent Angels (№ 195882)

I looked at the seven digits in red pen written on the palm of my hand, and squeezed it into a fist. I wanted to tell him that his phone today is definitely not going to ring. I wanted to say that it was his fault that he spent all that time questioning me. I have a lot I wanted to say, but I was standing with a look like he doesn't know how to open mouth. In the end I squeezed out of himself:
- I'm busy today.
"Me too," he grinned and disappeared.
I stood, as if glued, digesting what just happened.