Still wordless, as if by mutual agreement we turned that way.
As we did so, my belly knotted with a new and different type of tension.
Before, there'd been the awful, taut frustration of blocked action.
Now, I faced more subtle torments: the battle of the self, the gnawing problem of decision.
There was a voco station a block from the headquarters. Stepping inside, I punched out Security's number.
"Rizal Security." It was a sleepy voice.
I said, "Let me talk to Controller Gaylord, please."
A pause, a buzzing. Then, "Controller Gaylord speaking."
"You're up late, aren't you, Gaylord?" Intentionally, I made it mocking.