1. 12:10 28th Sep 2012

    Notes: 3

    Reblogged from something-wayward


    … I hear the unmistakable crack and scattering of plastic pieces on pavement and a woman shouts, “Oh, no! Was that your phone?” Looking down, I see nothing but a beat-up looking battery on the platform at my feet. No phone in sight. I sigh. “Probably,” I reply. The doors whoosh shut and the train pulls away, taking my baffled-looking coworker with it.

    Cautiously looking over the edge, I see my phone. Physically undamaged. Completely intact. Just chilling out next to one of the train tracks about five feet below me. So close, and yet so far. A stream of expletives run through my head.

    “Augh, that sucks SO bad,” Concerned Woman says, stepping up beside me.
    “Yep,” I reply. “It sucks a lot.”
    “Well, at least it doesn’t have any pictures on it,” she muses.
    I look at her. “No. Actually, it probably does,” I say. “Non-iPhones have cameras, too.”
    She looks lost for words. “Oh,” she says in response.
     Suddenly, a very flamboyant man rushes over. 
    “Oh my god. OH. MY. GOD,” he shouts. “TELL me you BACKED it UP!” His hands are on his face and he’s peering over the edge as if it were a newborn baby I dropped down onto the tracks, and not my cellphone.
    “I didn’t back it up,” I reply.
    Horror suddenly dawns on his face. “Don’t go down there!” Flamboyant Man yells. “It’s not worth it! Don’t go down! I couldn’t handle it!”
    “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m definitely not going down there.”
    “Is that your phone?” a third voice asks. Turning to my right, I notice Techie Hipster Guy.   Slender and tall with tousled dark hair, he’s wearing a tight plaid shirt, thick black-framed glasses, and has a computer bag slung over his shoulder. I sigh, deflated. “Yeah,” I reply. “It was my phone.”
    He looks at it, hands in his pockets, and shrugs.
    “I can get it,” he says….
    1. derasso reblogged this from something-wayward
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