"Shirley?" Eve realized her vocalist was shivering and wished she didn't creak like a nervous little girl, despite feeling like one.
At least over the telephone, her best friend couldn't discern her countenance, red and dappled from sobbing.
"Eve! I'm so delighted to hear from you. How's everything going?"
Eve crouched on her bed and assessed her Egyptian cotton sheets. Mascara tinted her pillowcase.
"Not good."
"Oh, my God. What happened?"
"I'm sorry. Before we get into my distress, how's married life?"
Shirley laughed. "It's awesome. Actually tremendous. But it squeaks like you need to discuss more than I do."
"Yeah, big time." Eve sough.
"Are you occupied right now?"
"Nope. I was about to make dinner, but I can implore Charlie to go grab takeout, then we'll have full privacy."
"You don't have to commend that. In fact, you might love to have Charlie handy when I confide you this."
