His door was cracked open, and I paused just outside, listening. He was sitting on the edge of the bed facing the window, his back to me and the door, his cell phone pressed to his ear and his head bowed. I could see his hand knotted in his hair. His shoulders were tense. Something was wrong. And I … stopped to listen. Okay, so I probably shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, and I knew that, but the urgency of his hushed voice intrigued me enough to stop and listen in.
