My grandmother calls me over and over.

Pain rattles in my pocket to the tune of do not disturb.

My phone is set to allow repeated calls through, assuming that someone so desperate to reach me is always worth answering.

I check my voicemail hours later when I trust she has forgotten me again.

She does not know how to hang up the line anymore.

I hear her worried feet shuffling and pacing.

She tells a nurse she wants to check on that little girl.

She wonders how her dance class went today.

Her persistence so close, I feel her lips on my cheek.

The smear of oily crimson, the smack of her doting mouth on my skin.

“I’ll kiss you to the bone so you can’t rub it off.”