In the moonlit park, dew glistens on my shoes. The dogs are pale orbiting smudges. I dial my mother's cell phone. No answer. My phone rings in my pocket a moment later. I could not find my phone in the back seat, she says. I was returning your call, I say.
Tamas, S. (2014). Bedtime stories. doi:10.1007/978-94-6209-622-6_17