Night Thief
I called my dad from my dorm to bitch about my dvd player not working only to be told that my home was on fire.
I called my dad from my dorm to bitch about my dvd player not working only to be told that my home was on fire.
Faced with answering the phone or going to lunch I chose the phone with no way of knowing that the wrong number on the other end would someday be my husband.
I cried immediately after dropping my phone in the toilet, but these three days of talking only with the people I want to talk with have been the most peaceful and enjoyable in my recent memory.
Once again, my dad's "Do you have a minute?" phone call spanned two hours and three different unpleasant subjects.
"Well, I'm no gynecologist", I murmured into the phone, "But I'll come over and have a look."
Upon hearing of my father's death, I calmly noted that people really do drop the phone when they hear bad news.
Despite living together for months now, I can't currently tell whether my roommate is crying or if he's having phone sex.
Phone sex was almost as awkward as meeting him for the first time in person the next day.
Though my voice may have seemed calm over the phone, I didn't want you to know that I was really sobbing.
I laughed when he tried to send a text message to her because I secretly changed her phone number when he wasn't looking.