Everything’s Not Lost

The phone rings and it rings. Sound now travels so uniquely in this house that used to be a home. I don’t pick up, and the ringing stops. Only to continue 11.113 seconds later.  The number is blocked, but I know all too well who it is.  You see God keeps calling me from blocked, but I pretend it’s you. It’s a small window of hope I get to stare out of every 11.113 seconds. I know that if I pick up, The window closes, and God walks through the front door whispering “Everything’s Not Lost.”  No. No. No. I’m pretty sure calling God a liar to his face is frowned upon. I’ll take this small window in this house that used to be a home any day.

I know that if I pick up, and it is you, The Window shatters at the impact of the brick you’ve thrown through it. The Brick contains a note that reads If it helps I lost everything, on the road to finding myself, you just happen to be one of them. 

No, No, No. I’ll take this small window in this house that used to be a home any day, or until my phone dies.  Yes. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll keep praying that God keeps calling me blocked, so that I can pretend it’s you.

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