Let us return once more to the Random Book prompt. Go choose a book, as randomly as you wish, and use its opening line as your own. Then, after credit has been duly given, take it where you will.
This is a useful site if you're feeling stuck (it's where I found mine).
Max did pretty well with his shots today... all friggin' four of them. There was an understandable bout of crying when they were administered, but he recovered pretty well. We had some extra fussiness to deal with throughout the day, but hopefully a good night's sleep will help to set things right.
Back to work tomorrow, as I'm doing a 3 to 9 shift to cover someone who needed the night off. Hopefully all goes well again.
City of Glass by Paul Auster
It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night, and the voice on the other end asking for someone he was not. He was angry initially, having just fallen asleep after hours of tossing and turning. But there was something in her tone, a brittleness that softened him.
"Are you sure Jeremy isn't there?" she had asked. "This is the only number I have for him. I... I don't know how else to get a hold of him."
"I'm sorry, but I don't think there's even a fellow by that name in the whole building."
He could hardly end the conversation there. His heart was not that cold.
"Is... uh, is he a friend of yours? Or, um, something... more?" He hated himself immediately, closing his eyes and shaking his head in disgust. What business was it of his, anyway?
"No, it's not like that. It's... complicated." A long silence, one that lasted long enough for him to begin wondering if she had walked away from her phone without hanging it up. "You see he's a... it's hard to explain, I guess."
"That's okay," he said, smiling in spite of himself. "I know a few people like that as well."
"Oh my gosh, I shouldn't keep you like this. What time is it... oh no! I'm so sorry!"
"Don't worry about it." Maybe it was the quaintness of the word gosh that did it, though it hardly seems fair to blame what followed on a single word. "I'm not getting any sleep tonight anyway." He found a scrap of paper and, eventually, a pencil, made a note to remind himself to call in sick to work before it got too late. "Why don't you tell me about this Jeremy of yours?"