Short Story / I curled up and slept.

We spoke, for days, for nights, for years, about everything, nothing, the great question about life, the universe, and everything; and in the end, at the dial tone, I fell in love with that voice on the other line, softly speaking ideas, principles, and possibilities. I fell in love with the intonation of her voice—trying to convince and sound smart, clever, and witty. I fell in love with her crazy logic and theses, with her possibility realities. I fell in love with the quiet “uh hu” offered after I made each point.
As I lay in my bed, looking up at the softly glowing stars pushed against my ceiling, I drifted into her “ums” and “likes” and pauses while she tried to gather her thoughts. Becoming a mind, not a person, floating, I jammed myself into the cell phone and crossed the wireless network to her phone, where I jumped out and landed next to her on her bed with a pleasant “thump.” She smiled and kept on talking into the crafted plastic mouthpiece, but I didn’t hear from the phone; I heard from beside her, on her blanketed bed; I curled up, listening to that soft and clever and original and perfect voice, and slept.

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