Is it me you're looking for?

The phone rang.

He searched everywhere for it. His excuses of old age were wearing thin; his wife’s patience had worn even thinner long ago. He found it in his raincoat pocket. They laughed together at his joke. ‘Saving it for a rainy day.’ He had missed the call from his son in New Zealand. He wouldn’t ring back, not all that way. It must be expensive, it’s the other side of the World, isn’t it?

The phone rang.

He squinted at the number and patted his pockets. Where the bloody hell are they? They were perched on his head. That number looks familiar. The bench was ready. ‘They want to know what we want on the plaque, Dear.’

The phone rang.

It was inside a coffee cup; he would never have put it there. When he answered, there was laughter, silence, and the call ended. The next day, he found it inside one of his trainers. The day after, in a desk drawer. Always the laughter, echoing silence and hanging up.

When he awoke, he checked his bedside table. There it was...safe and sound. He started his morning ritual, tea and a biscuit for the wife. His phone wasn’t there...must be her joke! It was in his pyjama pocket. It rang as he took it out. He ignored it.

‘All these bloody phone calls, it’s not funny.’

He checked recent calls. Nothing after his GP, a week ago. Perhaps he was in the wrong app. He turned to his wife. She must have gone to the loo...she would know what was going on.

The phone rang.

He was in the kitchen. He answered. His wife reminded him of a doctor’s appointment, told him to wrap up warm, or he would catch his death. He ended the call with ‘Love you’. She laughed. Had she gone shopping? Was it Thursday?

He needed his afternoon nap. He locked the kitchen door and shuffled into the lounge. The mantelpiece with its photographs of grandchildren’s achievements, and there, next to the black-ribboned portrait of his wife, was his phone. He pocketed it. Blew her a kiss.

He headed up the stairs. There was a tumbler of water by his bedside; perhaps he hadn’t taken his pills this morning. He took them just in case and settled down.

His eyes closed, his breathing slowed.

The unheeded phone went to voicemail, ‘See you soon. Love you,’ and laughter.