hello

yes, can i speak with jason

sorry, wrong number

she sounded sad, dejected, hopeful to be adjacent with jason but digitally challenged instead, left hanging on the tone deaf dial tone, disconnected by a matter of numerical dissention

lost love, missed connection, fake number given in the heat of the one sided moment

i couldn’t say, but i couldn’t help but wonder if an errant button separated me from the one she needed

i hope she found jason

but i will just forget in a few moments no matter how curious this momentary shared instance made me

it smells like lemon myrtle in here and i wish i were somewhere else with the same scent

the neighbor’s dog scratches at the door, my head hurts

and she is trying to reach jason at nine o’clock in the evening on a sunday

the world is fickle, filled with missed calls and wrong numbers, we are all looking for a connection in an endless series of deflections, rejections, and murderous introspections

next time maybe i will say that it is me