The lie detector was asleep when he heard the telephone ringing.
At first he believed it was the clock ordering him to rise, but then he awakened completely, and remembered his profession.
The voice he heard was rusty, as if disguised. He could not distinguish what altered it: alcohol, drugs, anxiety or fear.
It was a woman’s voice; but it could have been an adolescent imitating a woman, or a woman imitating an adolescent.
Page one of my illustrations of A Spy in the House of Love by Anais Nin. I’ll be posting these every Thursday so keep a look out.
