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May 23, 2007


They were the very last person I wanted to hear on the other end of the phone ...

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Jim: Just Another Brick

Each ring - well, more of an electronic echo of a ring - seems interminable. How long have I been away from her? Five weeks? Six?

Another unanswered ring. Is she okay? Of course she is!

Maybe she is out shopping. She loves to shop. And, I told myself, the steady withdrawals from our bank account prove she’s doing well.

But she’s all the way across the ocean. God, I miss her!

“Hello?” a man spoke into the connection.

“This is United States calling,” the overseas operator said. “From Mr. Floyd to Mrs. Floyd. Are we reaching Mrs. Floyd?”


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David: I Think I Owe Ray Bradbury An Apology

The last woman on Earth heard a telephone ring. The back of her mind considered just how much of a sci-fi cliché she had become even as the rest of her ran through the halls of the apartment building, listening at each door, trying to pinpoint the ringing.

She found it. With strength borne of desperation, she kicked in the flimsy pressboard door. The interior of the apartment was dark; whoever had lived here had pulled the curtains before he died. She dashed in and scooped up the receiver.

“Hello! Sat-TV Corp is currently running a promotion in your area….”

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From The Comments: f. chong rutherford

When we were kids, he stole my ten dollar haircut money after it fell from my pocket. He said, "Finders Keepers!" and bought candy. He’d been stealing from me ever since.

I'd seen the LOST posters. I found what he was looking for. I left a message and waited by the phone.

I let the phone ring. I hated the idea of talking to him. I had to find the courage. I answered and said the words as fast as I could.

"I found your daughter. But you can't have her back. Finders Keepers."

I hung up, and left town.

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