The phone that rang to give me the news of an acquaintance's death at age thirty-two. The call that came with an offer of a dream job. The voice that leaps across the static to end a relationship long over with, dragged out for the sake of being with someone. The voices of two friends laughing about nothing, and launching into stories of fancy to entertain from miles apart. The muffled crying of a sister in pain, and the words that try to soothe from inside a stranger's house.
The phone that sits on my lap is full of truth and bullshit. It continues to ring. I pick it up each time, wondering what lies on the other side.
The phone that sits on my lap is full of truth and bullshit. It continues to ring. I pick it up each time, wondering what lies on the other side.
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