"I had psychology today. I haven't eaten in four days. I got a ride home..."
"Ew."
"Haha."
"No, really," he says, "People who starve themselves digust me."
He is quiet; I know he's saying it to upset me. Most days just the fact that he wanted to hurt me would hurt me, but nothing can touch me today.
"Okay."
"It's disgusting." Pause.
"Alright."
"Like, to the point where I can't talk to people who do it." Pause.
"Yep."
"So I guess I'll talk to you some other time."
Here he stops again, waiting for me to protest. Maybe he wants something like, "Ouch". Maybe, "Don't," or, "Please don't".
I pull the receiver back from my ear and look at it a bit. I can hear the background noise, his breathing, even when we're separated like this. I laugh.
I hang up.
Five minutes the phone is ringing at the other end and he's saying, "All right, maybe that wasn't the best way to go about this."
I laugh some more and when he asks why, I can't explain.