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Hangin' on the Telephone

Today my cellphone called Dawn, all by itself. She's the first entry in my phonebook. I really have to get more minutes now. I killed quite a few talking with Darkside on Friday night. Not that I'm complaining about that. Best friends are best friends, and if I don't have time to talk to my best friend, then what do I have a cellphone for?

(We still create a space between us. There are still large chunks of undefined, but even though a thousand people might be listening, it's still the two of us on the phone in the dark when we both ought to be in bed. He still compels truth from me; I still seem to compel words from him. He keeps me honest and true, and I wouldn't have it another way. I still slip artless seduction into my voice; he still responds in that dangerous purr. We are who we are, and gods help the poor soul who drifts into our circuit and gets zapped.)

Work continues to be work. I live on the telephone at work; it's surprising to anyone that I should want to be on it while off work. But there you go.

I should call my baby sister.

I should call my virtual sister.

I should call Shawn.

I should call Mama.

I should call it a day. *zonk*
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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