What Was About To Occur began with the telephone ringing. Not an electronic chirp, because this is 1976; but a satisfying, sustained bell-ring. The saw-tooth trill jolted Susan-notthesamesusananothersusan back into reality, and her body made its way to the hall/landing telephone table, carrying her head only slightly behind.
- helloh-free-too-dubloh?
Her standard telephone greeting. Slurred into incomprehensibility by years of blank repetition.
- Susan? Susan it�s Peter. Peter Ackworth from the night-school classes.
A pause. Another slightly longer pause, and a handset is replaced upon a cradle. The cradle receipts its docking with a staccato ting, and in a single movement Susan-notthesamesusananothersusan turns, lunges and curls a monochromatic rainbow of vomit up stairs two, three and five.
