The Brass Telephone
October, 1964
The telephone rang. She looked at it speculatively. She was not obliged to answer it. She was not even sure she should answer it. It went a second and a third time. She decided that if it rang six times she would pick it up."Hello," she said softly."Hello." It was a man's voice, rumbling, cavernous. "Bob there?""Bob Schirmer?" she said."That's right. He there?""No, not at the moment. He'll be back in fifteen or twenty minutes.""I s...
