Several times a day the old phone in the back corridor of the shopping mall rang, exactly 10 times. There were offices along the hallway; the back entrances to several shops, public restrooms, and an elevator. Once I saw someone crouched on the floor next to the booth, listening intently, the receiver pressed tightly to their ear. I laughed it off at the time as crazy. But I never stopped wondering about that old phone.
Then one day it rang and I raced over and lifted it to my ear.
“Grandma?!” Grandma had died a year ago.
100 Words for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers based on the photo above by J. Hardy Carroll.