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The ringing phone filled her with dread.
The ringing phone filled her with horror, with disgust, with melancholy.
The ringing phone filled her with love.
The ringing phone filled her with hope, with longing, with happiness.
The ringing phone was ringing.
What to do? Two options presented themselves to the girl: to answer or to ignore was where the true question lie.
She flanked at the telephone, its miniature screen lighting up with each shrill cry of, “Answer me! Answer!” Her mind raced with the possibilities at hand.
It could be an old friend, asking to meet up again. It could be the man of her dreams, asking what time they should get together for dinner. It could be the lottery officials notifying her that yes, she had won the jackpot!
It could be her neighbor, asking to borrow milk.
It could be a serial killer, signaling the beginning of her end.
Lying on the couch, she stared at the ceiling and pondered.
Would the good outweigh the bad, or would all of life’s negativity triumph?
The telephone’s cry slowly drew her in, while also pushing her away. A decision had to be made, and soon, for all life’s possibilities would not present themselves forever.
Her heart slowly began to fill with the joy that was friendship and love.
The sheer pleasure in having friends who cared enough to call, or maybe a beautiful relationship waiting to happen, or more money than she could ever imagine- these far outweighed the pain she would feel if she did, in fact, open herself to these possibilities to receive pain.
She was going to answer the phone.
Leaping to her feet from the soft haven the couch had previously offered, she sprinted towards the telephone. Across the room, it released another shrill cry, again announcing all the opportunities it contained.
She arrived at the desk where the phone was perched.
Her hand, a desperate warrior, wrapped around the object as it released its final cry.
A smile enveloped her face, tears of joy sprung to her eyes as she pressed the talk button and raised the phone to her ear.
The only response was dial tone.
The girl collapsed in despair.
It was too late.