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An Old Phone?



I was resting on the sofa. Oli was still a bit drunk, but he had stopped drinking a couple of hours ago and was just sitting outside, chain smoking and thinking about what was going on. I was still thinking about what was going on too. I couldn't even believe I was pregnant. I kept rubbing my belly now that I was aware that there was a tiny little piece of life in there. I looked at the photographs, spread out over the coffee table once more. My eyes glanced from one photograph to another, intrigued by the people and the colours in each one. Except for this one, of course.

I looked at it. It looked boring, and plain. Nothing was in the photograph to really see. An ugly rug, two chairs and a table. But why was I looking at it for so long. I recognised the jacket on the table. That was my jacket. I recognised the photographs on the table, they were mine aswell. And then I saw the phone.

My phone.

I shot up from the sofa. Something about that phone in the photograph made me feel so uneasy. I looked around the living room for a second, my eyes wandering over the furniture, from the lamp on the left to the bookshelf on the right. I spotted my handbag on the floor, and swung out my leg to lean forward and grab it.

I could hear Oli rustling the white plastic chair out on the patio. He was getting up to come inside. "What are you doing?" He said, flicking out his cigarette on the ground and then stepping in through the door. "What's all the noise about?"

"My phone." I said. "That one." I held the picture up to his face, pointing at it. "I remember using that phone and everything. It would be good to go through it, it would help me remember stuff..." I felt weird saying it. Curiosity was kicking in now, and I just needed to find this stupid phone so that I could see what I had actually been doing and saying to people before the accident.

Oliver looked at the photograph and then looked at me. "I don't know what you're on about..." He scratched his head and then looked at my handbag. "Your phone is in your handbag. The phone in the picture... it isn't yours."

"What?" I felt this pulsing sensation in my hands. "What?" I said again. I grabbed my handbag and ruffled through it, tossing out empty packets of pills and receipts. I found a phone laying at the bottom. It wasn't the same phone. He was right. But how did I remember using that phone if it wasn't mine?

Oliver put a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" He said, looking at me like I was insane. "Are you feeling alright?"

I shrugged.

"Do you wanna go to bed? It's getting a bit late, you may as well. I haven't seen that phone before in my life, honey. Just relax yeah? I think you've gotten a bit muddled up with all these memories. I don't want you stressing."

I wasn't really listening to him, but he went on, lecturing me about how much he wanted me to relax and to feel better. I headed off to bed. I wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. I could have sworn I knew that phone, even the password to unlock it and everything. Was I hiding something?


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