98 words for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers.
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
The obsolete contraption on the wall taunted her whenever she walked past to catch her sky rail. Crowds passed, litter fluttered beneath the remnants of the booth, but the phone remained, shiny and arrogant as if it owned the place.
Jeannie had known it would happen one day. When the phone rang, a thin, jingling tone from the distant past, she was the only one who heard. Something in the back of her memory warned her to leave it alone, but the insistent tone drew her through the flow of travellers. She picked up the handset.
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