Friday, 16 April 2010

The Phone

It was peaceful... strangely so.  Nick relished the lack of telemarketers to hassle him.  He danced around in his underwear and sang into the wooden end of the broom like a microphone, not worried that if the phone rang, those on the other end would hear the shame in his voice.  Something told him that he would be safe from that.

But as the days wore on, the peace and quiet became an eerie silence.  No one rang to sell him things, yes, but no one rang for other reasons either.  There were no relatives ringing to gossip about menial things, no friends ringing with invites to parties, no wrong numbers dialled, nothing.  The house was filled with the emptiness that only comes from an un-rung telephone.

He sat for a while, staring at the phone on the wall, willing someone to call.  It was as if the whole of the world had fallen away around his house.  For days it had seemed like he barely blinked.  He ate his meals in front of the phone.  He did his homework next to it.  He slept on the countertop nearby.  Still the phone did not ring.

Red eyed with frustration, he bunched his hair into his fists and screamed at the phone.  "Why won't you ring?!"  He reached out and grabbed it, expecting to tear it free from the wall with a sickening crack.  Instead, the unplugged cables swung loosely around. 

It was then that he realised that the phone had never been plugged in at all.

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