The telephone ringsin a pitch-dark roomthe screen glows bluea name appears therea name grown old that has not called in so long
The man sitson the edge of the wooden bedphone in his handbut he does not answerthe bell rings a little longer then falls silent
He exhaleslays the phone on the beddarkness comes backthicker than beforehe does not switch on the light only sits like that
The screen lights againa message arrives"are you thereanh ơi, are you there"he reads very slowly then does not reply
He stands upgoes out to the balconythe street has turned its lights ontraffic thins awaythe wind passes through a thin trail of cigarette smoke
When he comes back inthe screen has gone darkthat missed callis still in the phonehe powers it off darkness returns