Telephone

He was feeling rather strange that day. More needy and very nostalgic.

He didn’t enjoy the mood, couldn’t enjoy it. Pragmatism does not like life in the past.

He struggled at his desk, computer’s bright light compounding his every shadow. Lines and wrinkles of wasted youth, turned ancient.

He wanted to talk to his parents, to know how they have been. He was certain that they would forgive him for being so ignorant for those past few years.

He picked up the phone to call them and then saw the time. It was too late, they’d been dead for years.

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