He walked over to the booth and opened the folding glass door. Took two steps to get inside. The door unfolded and slammed behind him. His chest felt the weight of the close quarters — he thought he could feel the pressure of the atmosphere outside pressing in — hard. He picked up the phone and shouted “I don’t know what your fucking problem is. Just go away.” The phone hit the silver hook hard. The lid of the earpiece shattered. As he got himself out of there, the wire and semiconductor guts of the thing spilled to the floor, like the entrails of a bird hacked open for divination by a Greek priest.