He’s Going To Yell At Me

It started as a tingle when she ended the phone call. Silly, of course, to be worried. They were so helpful after all, checking up on her to make sure she was okay, to let her know about a problem with her computer and $200 seemed like such a reasonable amount for how much they were helping; they’d even shown her the problem and what they were doing on her own computer screen. Of course a sincere young man who sounded so nice would have her best interest at heart, yes?

Then there was the small voice in her head that said she’d been stupid. This couldn’t be right, could it? What if this wasn’t right? She should call her son, he knows everything about computers and could reassure her that this was all perfectly normal and she did the right thing. But if she didn’t, he might yell at her, and that would lead to another argument about nursing homes and taking away her car. He might as well take away her freedom. He would be taking away her freedom if she called and this turned out to be a problem. But if she waited, didn’t call her son, what would happen then?

She stared at the phone in her hands, her shoulders sagged as she tapped the speed dial button, and she listened to the burring ringtone, an audible manifestation of her rising dread.

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