Short Story

Let me apologize first for the inconsistency of posting. I wanted to write every day in December, but the combination of being out of my element and no WiFi, it's been tough producing a post every day. And in addition, I apologize for the following post because it is not the traditional post from me. I had the sudden urge to write a short story, and I'm going to post it here. I hope you like it, and I want to see where your mind takes the story. I know in my mind what occurs for this story to happen, but I'm sure when you first read it, something completely different will come to mind. All feedback is welcome. :)

She couldn't stop staring. Pacing around the room nervously, she found herself fixed upon it again. Waiting for that one call would make or break her evening. 'This is so childish,' she kept reminding herself. Fidgeting, she occupiede her hands by rummaging through pile upon pile of papers in her room. Though her hands were busy, her head kept returning to that one spot in the room.
Suddenly, she picked her head up. Did she hear it? Was that her distinguishable ringtone? The screen remained black. Looking to the phone, she knew her mind was playing tricks on her. She began singing the ringtown to herself, hoping it would somehow nudge the call along. Realizing the idiocy of her thinking, she stopped.
Watching her cell phone was as useless as watching a pot of water boil. She took a deep breath. 'Perhaps I need to leave the room?' she told herself, tiptoe-ing through her doorway. In mid-step, she halted all movement. Did she hear it? Was that her distinguishable ringtone? She looked down to see her feet were frozen, as if not to disturb the phone. She shook her head, knowing again that her mind was being devious. She told herself to stay in the room, just in case.
She imagined her senses were heightened, if only in this moment. Her radio began "Sitting, Waiting, Wishing" by Jack Johnson. She laughed. The world was joking with her. She turned off the radio, attempting to cut out any interference with the eerie silence in the rest of the room. She closed her eyes when a few seconds later, her eyelids popped open. Did she hear it? Was that her distinguishable ringtone/ Again, nothing had changed about the phone's appearance.
She signed, finally accepting the notion that perhaps the call would never end up being made. No connection would ever occur. No conversation will be taking place. Finding the darkest, most desolate corner of the room, she slinked against the wall. For the rest of the night, her last hope rested on that phone call. Her eyelids fell heavy again and as her breathing steadied, a single tear inched down her cheek. She had realized that no call was worse than any conversation that would have taken place.