Cisco D: phone call
[It's on her way back into town after spending the days immediately after wiping out the electrical supply closest to the woods, in the palatial place in the Capital where the din is deadened just a little. She's in the back seat of the car, expensive and black and purring with luxury, swaddled in a coat that would buy her old neighborhood beer for a month. The phone is small and cheap. She picked it up at an unrecognizable big box store, one of many and she transferred the number over. Now, with the air changing outside from the milling traffic of the city to the road out of town, she rings.]