[The sound of the wind answers Quentin back. Gnarled branches stripped clean like old bones rattle against the roof of the delipidated wooden shack he wanders past, the noise shrill and scratchy like nails on a chalkboard, like claws on rusty metal pipes. Blood wells up from the newly bitten hole in his finger as he continues to walk, trickling down. A droplet hits his phone… and rolls up the screen, almost imperceptibly, as if being drawn in via magnet. It’s sucked into the receiver, disappearing in the blink of an eye.
Suddenly, Quentin’s phone begins to vibrate harshly. He’s getting a call. The screen dims as the caller’s name lights up at the top —DAD — and the green bar at the bottom flashes, inviting him to swipe his thumb across.
It doesn’t stop. Even as the wind continues to pick up and the cold turns frigid, his phone never stops ringing.]
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Suddenly, Quentin’s phone begins to vibrate harshly. He’s getting a call. The screen dims as the caller’s name lights up at the top —DAD — and the green bar at the bottom flashes, inviting him to swipe his thumb across.
It doesn’t stop. Even as the wind continues to pick up and the cold turns frigid, his phone never stops ringing.]