That was enough for her. She hanged up the phone on me. I felt relieved because Darling had started to sound more like a pain in the neck than a cheerful and loveable girl.
I looked the Carol King record in my hand and then it hit me. Shirley – I had completely forgotten her. However, I didn't feel willing to contact her right then. It was getting late, and I had to be ready with my moving boxes before my landlord appeared.
While I was carrying my boxes out from my flat, I recalled a slightly similar situation in my past. My ex-neighbour, Hank Nightingale, a proud owner of an ant farm and seven hundred clay modeling books, had asked me to help him with his moving boxes. It was he who had given me the Carole King record! In fact, I had asked to have it, not because I would have really wanted it, but because it was the only way to make him stop playing it.
That silly old Hank. He had loved Carole King's Corazón. It made his ants to dance, he had told me so. However, there was no Hank or his ants anymore. He had passed away nearly two years ago. Perhaps then the record should stay with me, keeping Hank's memory alive.
