The phone rang, and no one spoke on the other end.
Someone was panting. Their breath came in rapid gasps, like someone just finished an intense sexual act.
Eva slammed the receiver down firmly.
It wasn't some stupid kids harassing her. This was far worse.
Tomorrow, she would go to the telephone exchange and ask the switchboard operator.
Surely, the operator had noticed that they were requesting connections to this number too frequently. Eva had anticipated it—and her suspicion had not been wrong.
The intermediary…
Eva smiled.
Sometimes it was so easy to tie the threads together. The final stitch in the fabric. The fabric she had received from Olga.
The afternoon passed pleasantly.
The next day, Eva didn't go easy on Elisa.
Had she made a mistake? She took what had gone wrong and redid it.
They wanted to exhaust her. Because of Elisa, Eva would be held responsible if this party rag messed up.
They wanted to wear her down by letting Eva work for two people, because Elisa was clumsy.
Elisa wasn't clumsy by accident—she was clumsy on orders.
This party rag's incompetence was deliberate.
They wanted to exhaust Eva.
Eva showed no mercy with Elisa.
With harsh words, she would have asked this party's worthless bedsheet—this opportunistic rag—about… what exactly?
There were no questions. Only reactions.
The air was gone. The questions were exhausted.
There were only reactions.
If Elisa made a mistake, she redid it immediately. Eva stood beside her, stern. The party rag corrected her error promptly and precisely.
They wanted to wear Eva out. They wanted to get her in trouble.
Elisa was exhausted. She had worked skillfully, precisely, for two people. Eva had forced this party's bedsheet—this opportunistic rag—to work for her own sake as well.
They had wanted to exhaust Eva.
By the end of the workday, Eva was smiling.
Of course, the switchboard operator had been glad to help. She was already wondering why this number was getting so many calls.
Of course, she listened in on the line. She was alert.
Of course, she was watching Eva's number and eavesdropping. She had her reasons. There was nothing to be ashamed of.
Yes, at first, she had thought the same as Eva—that some device must be broken. She checked. Then she realized it was harassment. She was vigilant.
Here, take the number. Not a private line. Just a public booth. She handed it over. No harm done…
Eva waved her hand. She didn't care that the operator was listening in. Eight hours behind the switchboard must be boring.
Handing over a public booth number on request?
Eva would bring her the book she could no longer give to Olga. Not for her birthday. Thinking of that, Eva smiled.
Oh, let Julcsi's ears hear it, rather than that cursed one who planted the bug in the cuckoo clock. Inside. In her living room. At home.
That would be the next problem to solve.
A public booth number. Impossible to trace who was calling from it.
Eva knew exactly what she would do. That very day.