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Last Call

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You sit quietly in the pew as the preacher talks, but you couldn't care less. You just can't wait to leave the dreadfully boring church that you were dragged to unwillingly.

Just as you think you are about to snap and start throwing things, you feel a buzz in your pocket and reach to grab your phone, more than willing to latch onto the first excuse you can find to leave the room. You walk down the aisle and outside as quickly as you can in a calm fashion, avoiding the glares and frowns people from either side throw your way.

You flip open your phone and answer the conveniently timed call with the most polite hello you can muster. A raspy heaving of what may have once been considered breathing at some point lingers on the line for several moments much to your concern. You attempt to acquire a reply once more by somewhat uneasily repeating "Hello?" The voice on the other end seems to pause for a moment before whispering all too quickly, "Don't you love me?" before abruptly hanging up.

You stand in bewilderment and sudden terror as you familiarize the voice. You stare at the screen, holding your mouth as to hold in the vomit. The screen reads one word. "Grandma".

You throw the phone in disgust. Your grandma died last week. You knew this funeral wouldn't end well.

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