“a dozen individuals aged” by Sasha on her porch


Tuesday May 24, 2016
9:55pm
5 minutes
Harbor
John Ajvide Lindqvist


You find a payphone and you haven’t used one in so long that you forget how it works. Muscle memory leads you to insert a quarter. The screen says that another is required. You mutter about fifty cents being a whole lot of money to make one phone call but do it anyway. You dial the phone number and wait. It rings seven times before I answer.

“Hi?”

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“By the side of the road near Joshua Tree…”

“Oh my God – ”

“I’m safe. I’m fine. I had to get rid of my phone. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

“Shit, shit…” I’m crying and I can hear your smile

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“a dozen individuals aged” by Sasha on her porch