A Phone Rings In My Pocket

I pull out the phone, its screen blinking and body shaking in my hand. A finger flies out reflexively, tapping a green button above all the numbers, so many numbers.

It stops crying, stops shaking, stops flashing. It's like the thing is asleep, or like I had killed it.

Thankfully that sentiment soon vanishes from my mind, as life re-enters it, a voice crying from inside.

I slowly raise the phone to my ear so that I can hear it better, the muffled sound coming from it incomprehensible from the distance.

"...remember, Jacquie, your favourite colour is red."

I hear a faint click, and then the phone is buzzing in my ear, sounding like an insect of some sort. Again, almost reflexively, a finger lashes out to tap a key, this time red.

"Red?" I mutter, looking up across the street. My eyes finally fall upon a canvas sign, hung above a twin set of street-side tables and chairs.

The End

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