Bad News

I heard it on the telephone.  I really wish I hadn’t though.  I wish I skipped that episode of my life and instead took a nap or changed the channel.

But I heard it on the telephone.  I answered waiting for someone to ask me to buy a new diet plan or lawnmower or whatever it is that strangers try to sell you in the comfort of your own home.

I heard it on the telephone, wishing technology was a lie and it was a distorted conspiracy on the other side of the wire. It was only a prank call and I waited for bored teens to hear my reaction.

But it wasn’t.  I could tell because the scream in your voice soon matched mine; we were quiet except the cry trapped in our voice box that could never transmit correctly on telephone and wire or pen and paper.

I heard it on the telephone, and in the holes of the heavy receiver, I saw myself cry.