Kyla checked her phone again.
Nothing from Albert.
No missed calls, no texts, no voicemails.
She sighed, heading to the kitchen because she didn't know what else to do after crying to a point of numbness. She'd tried entertainment but the early afternoon television shows were awful. They weren't nearly as interesting as they were when she was a little girl and would be with her mother every afternoon, waiting for her father to return at 6 pm. Back then, the afternoons were filled with talk shows, pseudo-advice programs, and game shows with glittery wheels. Now, everything looked dull.
Or maybe that was just her.
She'd called Morey's salon after Albert left and told him she was sick. An apprentice had picked and said she'll inform Morey and to get well soon. That was an hour ago and still—no feedback. Morey had to know she wasn't coming by now. But she hoped he'll call so she could take a full week off work.
