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Half a conversation

Hello? … who’s that? … Oh, hi. Yeah, it’s her phone … Well, the ringtone don’t work no more so I only know if there’s a call if I’m looking at the screen … Yeah, well it was throw the phone across the room or slap her, and I weren’t going to slap her even if she was a bitch … ‘Take the phone and get it fixed,’ she said, so that’s why I got it. Then she punched me in the mouth. That’s not right, is it? She shouldn’t of done that … So I’ve had it since last Friday, took it to the phone repair place on the market and he said the board’s split. Said it would take him a couple of days to get a replacement one in stock so I’m going there now … You want to give the phone back to her, bro? Yeah, after I get it sorted, but I’m not in town right now … Look, I’m not in town, right? My dad was in a car crash last night. Soon as the phone’s fixed I’m going to see him in hospital … I dunno, it might be a while. This evening maybe … Look, I can’t call you on this phone, there’s no credit on it … Just call me later, okay?


Don’t ask me, I was on a bus a couple of days ago. The guy a couple of seats behind me was having this conversation, of which I only heard his side (indeed the whole bus heard his side, he wasn’t exactly keeping his voice down). I can only infer what had happened, but I’m conscious that inferences based on half a conversation can be completely wrong. For all I know he was rehearsing  lines for a soap opera with another actor on the other end of the line. Or maybe his life really is full of everyday soap-opera drama? At any rate, bus journeys are sometimes intriguing.

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