from russia with love

the phone rings and it's f.w. I can tell from the call display. I say:

-'F.W.!'

-I hate it that you know it's me calling, he says.

-why?

-because you always get to say my name first. it takes away one of the few pleasures in life that i have access to.

-what are you talking about? how's moscow?

-fine, fine. it's just that i like the surprise of phoning people and i like the pomp of announcing myself to them. Like, 'Well, hello there. This is F.W. telephoning from russia. May I please speak with C.B.?' That sort of thing.

I don't always understand what F.W. is talking about, but I think that's why I like him. Aside from this revelation, he's called to tell me he and sophia have split, again.

-It's like, she's not a person anymore to me, you know? she's more like, like a mood.

-What? I don't get it. A moo?

-No, mood. With a 'd'. It's like you said the other day. My girlfriends don't seem to have substance, just substances. That's like sophia. She doesn't exist as a person exactly, but more as a demand. I just couldn't take it.

-women.

-exactly.