After dialing five or six times with no answer, Walter became more anxious and his mood became irritable.
He continued to pace back and forth in the living room. After a few minutes, hoping against hope, he dialed again. This time, the call was picked up after two rings—
"Hello, Tara, you..."
"Sir, are you a friend of the phone owner?" Walter's words were cut off by a strange man's voice on the other end of the line.
"Who are you?" Walter's face fell, his heart skipped a beat.
"Oh, don't worry, sir. I'm a bartender. This lady has been drinking at our bar all afternoon and is currently unconscious. We could only find her phone in her bag and saw several missed calls from you, so we gave you a call..." the man explained.
Upon hearing this, Walter felt slightly relieved, but still asked with a furrowed brow, "Indeed, I am her friend, where is your bar exactly?"
