Isolation lingers by me. I’m in a glass booth, surrounded by telephones. At least one of them begins ringing every 40 seconds or so. Sometimes many ring at once. I cannot reach any of them. Nobody is within earshot, but I can see multitudes just beyond range. Sometimes they look like people I used to know, who called me friend.
I know it’s just a trick, of course.
I have to tell someone the things I have on my mind, but I can contact nobody. I have blunted my hands on the crystal clear glass countless times.
Nobody will hear me out. Nobody can even make out what I want to say.
This is my punishment, I guess. I would be better off without a mouth at all, without senses, but it is not to be.
It must be a lie, what it says here in front of me on the index card taped to the outside of the glass:
“They want to know why you refuse to take their call.”
2. Tantalus of the Telephone
Author: Shoving Leopard
English and Music teacher, and creative loony. I am "blue tapioca" at writerscafe.org. I would like to invite you to read some of my longer material there: http://www.writerscafe.org/bluetapioca I am working on a nove... Read Bio
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