A routine, a tiresomeness with no known source, a job designed by higher creatures with glue in their fingers and speeches on their tongues, how does it work?
Silence and a mysterious aura of unresolved murders inundated the apartment, I couldn't help but shake at an ungodly speed, couldn't control it, there was neither a touch nor a warning on the speaker so I calmly embraced the waves produced by the recorder whenever it announced a new (dismissed) message, this time we had a cheerful grandmother Sophia singing to Laura a Happy Birthday song.
The cold housing snitched the season. It was winter, I knew it because people called others a lot during winter, just to avoid the news that some relatives committed suicide, or to feel less guilty if they decided to do so.
ring after ring Laura touched me, Laura shivered, at this point the purpose of my functions was fuzzy, was she the one transmitting the information or was it me?
She patiently awaited in the sofa for me to pursue the last oscillations, the warning sounds of whoever wanted to communicate something to her, and then, when I muted, she walked towards the table and lifted me, leaving traces of her vintners fingers on my speaker.
| no answer, silence, she went back to her seat.
How bizarre was the game she played. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I've been noisy at this place for a year now and my unused wires and polymeric housing could easily pass by new. Thereby, I tried to play her game, I decided to not ring ever again; to hush the first words of a baby/ jazz soft tones/ the slightly out of tune songs of the mockingbirds near home/ the abetment between two old loves.
A revolt that ended everything for me, next thing I hear is Laura negotiating my price with a local mercantile based on my use, which was none. She sold me for 5 dollars, obeying the instructions of the manual, the one designed by the creatures with glue in their hands and speeches in their tongues, the one she was supposed to overlook.
The merchant resold me, and here I am, playing lounge music whereas I'm being warmed by a red lipstick on the microphone and past-midnight proposals on the speaker. Not exactly my idea of communication, but, have I ever had a real reference?