The Dawn of Darkness

He picked up his mobile and quickdialled 5. He let the ringing continue until the voice recorder answered. He listened to her recorded voice, giggly and cheerful until the beep, but he left no message. He scanned his inbox in case there was an e-mail that he missed; and he checked his tweets for the same.
He let a long, long sigh, another one in the many he'd let out this day. He flipped open his mobile, for the thousandth time, admiring the slim design. How he wished it was as razor sharp as its advertisements made it to be; He placed the top end in his palm and imagined it breaking his skin, a sudden sharp pain followed by numbness as it spread across his palm. He imagined he'd feel a hot line across his palm as his razor cut across the skin, and ensuing warmth as the blood oozed out and covered his palm.
He looked at the key pad and quickdialled 5 again. Ringing, no answer. He snapped the flip shut in frustration. He was about to throw the phone across the room, but realised there was still a chance she might call him. He gripped the phone tightly in his hand, admitted defeat, and placed the phone with a '"thunk!" on his desk.
He fired up his e-mail and hit "Compose". "Dearest,..." he began, and paused to consider the futility. "I'm sorry.." for what? he asked himself again. He wasn't sure how much she found out. He felt bad it had happened, but could that be why she's cut him off so suddenly? He hadn't lied; it was so long ago, he wouldn't think it mattered. He closed the e-mail window and left it with the other drafts.
He fired up his IM and starred at her picture. her name was grayed out in the list. " Not Online", he muttered under his breath. He typed,"Dearest, are you ok?" and hit send. He knew she wouldn't reply. He'd done nothing but send her messages all day, IM, e-mails, voice mails, and in return there had not been anything.
In frustration, he grabbed his phone from his desk, tipping over the mug of pencils. He cursed at the pencils strewn across the desk. He'll clear them tomorrow. He grabbed his briefcase banging the desk and tipping over the wastepaper basket; amidst expletive laden curses he switched off the lights and slammed the door.
He did not notice the blinking reply notification on his screen.