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new beginnings.

The pub's back door swung shut behind her as Dulce stepped outside, her phone buzzing again for the fifth time in a row. She didn't want to answer, she already knew the stench of beer would be waiting for her on the other end, but she picked up anyway.

"Duuuulce... mi piba... finally. Been callin' you all damn night."
"You're drunk."
"So what? Can't a man have a drink in his own house?"
"You don't have a house. You have a pile of empty bottles with walls."

On the other end she heard a bottle knock over, the scrape of a chair and his heavy breathing as he staggered upright. He then took another swing, she heard it loud in her ear.

"Mirá vos, how you talk now that you're in Londres... acting fancy. Acting better. You left because you're weak. Just like your mother. Ella también se escapó."

"Don't. Don't bring her up. You don't get to."

But he continued, without even listening "she left me with a kid I didn't... I didn't even want."

Her hand tightened on the phone so hard her knuckles cracked. Then he slammed something, a counter, maybe.

"Come home. Dulce... come back. I'm alone. I need you."
"No, you need another drink."

He growled, frustrated, desperate. "Don't hang up. ¡No cortes! Don't you fucking—"

She blew out smoke, slow and steady. "Goodnight, viejo." And hung up. She crushed the cigarette under her heel and didn't look back at the phone once.