In the end theres typically just one crumpled

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way. In the end, there's typically just one crumpled aluminum shell left. I looked over my screen. I picked it up after a momentary hesitation; my disobedient fingers dialed a random number; I could hear the long, long beeps – infinitely plangent, as if someone were pulling out a copper wire with pinions. Beep – Pause – Beep – Pause. Occasionally floating boats buzz in the dark, and the lighthouses blink in response; but back then I had neither a sea, nor a lighthouse by my side. I stood up to make some tea for myself, made a sandwich, and that basic sequence of ordinary acts relaxed me a little. I grunted, leaned back, crossed my legs and even started to mumble a tune. A tiny piece of free space lit up in my heart and I realized my apartment's darkness no longer frightened me. I paced around it, illuminating all the torches, lifting the shadows of the windows and opening the widows; after a moment of hesitation, I placed the photos on my desk facing the wall – I thought the time had passed to dig into the past, seeking to fix what could not be solved. The freedom broadened in my chest and I felt crowded in my little room – but in a good way. I was about to go outside to inhale the violet dusk remains, when all of a sudden, my phone rang out. This sound was very foreign to my world, and I stood in the kitchen for some time, stared at the black ringing box on my table. Then I picked it up timidly, and saw an unknown number on a phone. Oh yes, it was the number I had recently dialed! Notwithstanding the urge to click the red button, I have acknowledged the call unexpectedly for myself and put the phone to my ear. Call acknowledged. Picked up the opportunity. At the other end of the line, on the other shore of the ethereal ocean, a woman's gentle voice sounded unmistakably far from me and at the same time right there in my kitchen. It was so lonely but in it sounded with hope. A voice so attuned to mine. And the voice said: “Hello?”
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  • Fall '19
  • Rahul Patel

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