Ringing Dead Phone

I was sitting in an empty room, waiting for a dead telephone to ring. Let it be somebody, anybody to lift me out of this rut I had just found myself in. A ringing phone would be my salvation from the crushing weight of loneliness that had consumed me whole. But no ringing would come. Instead I sit in silence as the dining room light illuminates empty walls of a cavernous apartment. How big it seemed when i realised I had nothing to put in it. I sit in silence, listening to the random cracks and creaks inside the walls that echoed in my head. Please phone, ring. Just once. I don't care if its a wrong number. Save me from the excruciating pain of knowing nothing will happen. Just once, just ring once. ... ... ... But it would not ring.

My how old this memory is, like ancient ruins of this fragile mind. Its an echo of a life that once was, a ripple of a life left behind. My phone rings now.