I lost my phone today

I sent a text message to M when I woke up. I punched in “hi” and “I love you.” When she wrote back, “ah shucks,” I plugged my phone into its charger and the charger into the wall and left to have breakfast with two friends at the café up the way.

After I ate I left my friends at the café and walked home to get ready to bike to work. When I unplugged my phone I noticed I had a voice mail. It was from M, and the message she left was about a radio program she was listening to. She thought of me because the syndicated show was being broadcast from the campus of the college in which I attended for five years, five years ago. I didn’t call her back. I rode to work.

At work I was going to send a text message to M. There was a parade downtown and I saw the parade set-up and I thought her because we—we’ve been together a little longer than a year—went to this particular last year. I reached my right hand into my right pocket, where I normally keep my phone and noticed it was not there. I checked the left pocket and also the back pockets, but my phone was not on my person.

I retraced all of my steps from the locker room to the break room to the workspace where I work and to the computer station where I checked my email. My phone was not at any of these places. I asked the manager on duty if anyone had turned in a cell phone. He checked around, but no one had.

I called my phone but no one answered. I wasn’t there. I could be called but I couldn’t answer. I had to let my friends and family know. From work, I sent out emails. I lost my phone, I wrote. Call my friends. They’ll hand their phones over to me. I’ll have to borrow their phones to call you when I can, but there’s no sense in calling me. I lost my phone. It’s gone, I wrote in the bodies of messages.

I went to lunch, but didn’t call M like I normally do on my break. Instead, I tried to read. I couldn’t because of conversations going on around me. I re-retraced my steps. I searched but found no phone. One minute you have all your contacts, the next you have none.

The Internet connection at my house went out the other day. I can no longer send email messages from my house. I can’t receive them either. After work, as I rode my bike home I wondered if people would reply to the messages I earlier sent how would I know.

Because of the parade I had to take an alternate route home. I rode my bike down streets I’d never been on. I made a wrong turn and had to turn around at one point. I worried if I got lost I wouldn’t have a phone to use to call for help. I got back on course, though, and made my way home. When I arrived at my house friends were in the garage and on the stoop. They said hello. Words went directly from their mouths to my ears. Communication was certain.

I went into my bedroom and turned on the light. There, on my bed’s blanket was my phone. I flipped it open. I had no messages. I had missed one call. It was my work’s number. It was from me.