Message

The rain falls on the window, and for once, the pathetic fallacy is perfectly aligned with the pathetic state of your life. You sit, waiting for inspiration to hit you, because you know that it’s out there. The phone rings, but you stay motionless. Anyone calling will ask you about your day, even telemarketers with bored, dull voices and foreign, hurried accents. You have no desire to talk, not right now, and not enough will power to stop, once started.

It goes to voicemail.

“Hi, you’ve reached 391-243-4919.” Your voice sounds happy. “No one was home to answer your call, but please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you soon. Have a great day!”

You wish it applied, but it’s your voice chirping from the machine, scratchy with static, and you can hardly take your own advice. The words have no meaning.

“Hey, I guess you’re not home, but I need a favour from you. Call me back, I’ll be home later, but I’ll call again. I really need your help. Talk to you later, I guess. Bye.”

The voice is familiar, but it makes you afraid. You get up and your bones creak. At least they work. Slowly, you walk to the answering machine. Play.

“Hi, you’ve reached 391-243-4919. No one was home to answer your call, but please leave a message, and we’ll get back to you soon. Have a great day!”

Again, you hang on to the idea that those last four words could apply to you. They sound warm, open, and you want to pretend that they came from the mouth of an old friend, so that you could open your tentative lips and say, “Thank you, you too.”

But you cut your tongue, zip your mouth and resist, because this would cross the line. You are too lonely to admit that only you can satisfy yourself as good company.

“1 new message.”

“Hey, I guess you’re not home, but I need a favour from you. Call me back, I’ll be home later, but I’ll call again. I really need your help. Talk to you later, I guess. Bye.”

Erase.

“No new messages.”