Is there room for two?

A few posts back I shared Unlisted Memory, a short piece of fiction I’d written for a challenge AlisonTrollop ran on her blog. She’d asked for no more than 100 words and the prompt for the story was lists. 

Although the writing on my blog will always be predominantly food-related in some way shape or form, I do enjoy the opportunity to veer off occasionally and try something a little different. I don’t find it that easy to get inspiration for fiction pieces, so writing challenges or prompts are a great way to get started.

Alison’s next challenge was for a 250-word story based on the prompt of phones. As my previous story had finished with a phone number being left in a bar, I couldn’t resist the chance to move things on.

The photo with this post is a phone booth I saw one day in Norwich. I never found out who’d put the balloons in there, but I wish they’d do it again.

Is there room for two?

…and you did ring. 

At least I assume it was you. For all I know, the barman might have passed that napkin to anyone, might have screwed it up, thrown it away before I was out the door.

But you found it, you called

‘Is that you?’

‘Depends on who you want me to be’

‘The guy who makes the effort to call me back from a phone booth’

‘Why?’

‘Because I found one and now it’s your turn’

You gave me a number, the line went dead.

No hesitation, lost you once, won’t let it happen again.

I’ve often thought nothing ages you like phone booth nostalgia. Reminiscing about a time when making a call had to be planned, location sought out, required amount of change to hand and ready to be inserted.

For part of my childhood, they were all I knew, we didn’t have a phone in the house. Try explaining that to the generation who’ve never had one out of their hands.

Now it’s 5 a.m and I’m a teenager again. Rushing through empty streets, desperate to call before you change your mind. Think there’s one a few blocks away, there certainly used to be. Not so sure what I’ll do if it’s gone. Many have, swept away by easy communication.

But I’m safe, there it is at the end of the street. Closer still, realising it’s not empty. Through the gloom, recognising who’s using it. 

‘Is there room for two?’ 

‘I do hope so’