My Phone

My phone has a screen and 10 buttons. The buttons each have a number on them, and also three or four letters for typing out a message. The screen and the buttons are separated in the middle by a hinge. It’s a flip phone. It’s gray, and there is also an antenna on the left side that can be pulled out up to two and a half inches.

 I’m holding my phone up to my ear and speaking. I look out and there are a thousand pairs of eyes staring out at me. I look up and see a sign that reads, “Come out and see the spring play! Thursday at 7pm.” I look down and realize that I stopped speaking, and I need to remember my next lines.

The weird thing about my phone is that it doesn’t work, at least not how it’s supposed to. By that I mean that it can’t make calls or send texts. But in a way, it does work. It works in the sense that all the people out there believe that it works, and that there really is someone on the other end. Because they all believe me, it's as if my phone had never been accidentally dropped in water. My phone isn't broken; it works fine.