Written for an English assignment, in which a character sees a phone number written on a bathroom stall, and calls it.
The numbers beckoned him. They pulled him in with their siren song of potential, their whispered promises consuming his inebriated mind.
The numbers were faded, black edges erased from time, giving the message an otherworldly, ghostly air. They were something not of this world. Something…more. They had clearly been there since time immemorial, an ancient message left for one who would be clever enough to decipher the gravely important message. One who was worthy.
Fr a gud thyme, kall 555-5309
He took a deep breath and forced himself to stand, burning the numbers into his memory. Exiting the stall, he closed his eyes in anticipation, trying to quell his excitement.
This was destiny.
Hands trembling, thanking God for this new beginning, this new lease on life, he pulled out his phone and began to dial.
5. 5. 5. 5. 3. 0. 9.
The ones, the beeps, all combined to form a glorious symphony, pulling him inexorably closer. At this point, he could not have stopped himself, even had he wanted to.
Is this what eternity feels like?
Who would answer? Down what new road would his life venture down?
"Hello?" A woman's voice.
What does he say? What can one say in the face of wondrous destiny?
"…Hello? Is someone there?" Her voice was young, crystal clear and beautiful through the receiver. "I can hear you breathing."
He was speechless. Totally, utterly, completely speechless.. Finally, he mustered up the resolve to speak, his entire body tense. "…Yeah, I, uh, I'm supposed to call this number for a good time?"
"…Fuckin' creep." She hung up with a click.
He stood there for a moment, disappointment, the feeling of a lost opportunity, washing over him.
Then he shrugged and walked out of the gas station bathroom, a strip of toilet paper clinging to the heel of his shoe.