Hello, this is Mitch Turkan. I'm not available right now. Please leave a message, and I'll return your call as soon as possible. Thank you.
Monday, May 7th, 11:01 a.m.
Mitch? It's Amy. Snuck out for lunch early, huh? Naughty boy! I know you hate being interrupted while you're eating, but I just wanted to thank you for yesterday. I liked all the places we saw, but the townhouse in Oak Park was the cutest. It had enough room for your comic book collection and my Beanie Babies.
I appreciate you letting Deanna tag along. She's been so depressed since she dumped Bryan. And no, I didn't mind you dropping me off first. It was on the way, and I was able to catch "Desperate Housewives."
Did you notice Deanna sporting a subtle shade of green? I think she envies us, because Bryan was such a Homer Simpson. They never had a soul connection, like we do. Love you babe, call me tonight. Bye!
Thursday, May 10th, 2:30 p.m.
Hey there. I was just — oh shit, here she comes! (CLICK)
Thursday, May 10th, 2:47 p.m.
Hey again. Sorry to cut you off. Executive Bitch Moretti waddled over to scold me for typing her letters in the "wrong" font. Like who cares, as long as they're readable?
Did your boss finally approve your design for that building or is he still bugging you for revisions? Hope that project's done soon. It's keeping us apart too much.
You're not the only one working hard. I asked Deanna to go shopping with me tonight. I want a new outfit to wear to your company dinner next week. But she's pulling overtime, too. You both work for slave-drivers! See you soon. Bye!
Tuesday, May 15th, 6:35 p.m.
Mad? No, disappointed maybe. I was totally looking forward to wearing the new peach tank dress that I look stunning in, but I can return it. No biggie.
I'll just sit here, eat my Lean Cuisine, and scan the apartment ads while you and your buddies feast on surf and turf at Gibson's. Just tell your boss, Fred Flintstone, that his "spouses only" rule sucks, and so does he. This rule won't apply to us much longer, right? Right?
Saturday, May 26th, 2:07 p.m.
You're not going to believe this, but it's true! Since Darth Vader has you working ANOTHER Saturday, I needed something to do. A sign outside the Hilton Garden said "Psychic Fair," so I grabbed Deanna and went.
We met a Mohawk Indian "seer," this lady who reads "auras," fields of light everyone gives off, but only she can see. She tells fortunes from them. She read mine and yours, from that photo of you I have in my wallet. She said our auras perfectly match! We knew we were made for each other and now it's confirmed! Best fifty bucks I ever spent.
Something funny happened to Deanna, too. Some guy was talking about reincarnation and meeting up with people he knew in previous lives. Deanna said it was bullshit. But as we left, the woman at the front desk said hi to Deanna, even though Deanna hadn't been there before. Freaky, huh?
Don't strain yourself, babe. Call me tonight.
Story Copyright © Jack Phillips Lowe