[ WP ] There exists a phone line that will correctly answer any question asked to it . Write about either someone calling the line , or the person answering the question ...

Fred rolled over in his bed and grabbed at his fags. He stuck one in his mouth and lit up, hanging off the bed and letting the ash float over his nose and eyes, sitting in his fringe in a most ridiculous position. With his lighter he reached back onto the bed and burned the corner of one of the tax forms lying beside him. He sighed and grabbed for the phone. 
 
 `` Hello,'' said a somewhat more cheerful and womanly voice than Fred's, `` Molly here. How can I help you?'' 
 
 `` That the one that can answer any question?'' 
 
 The lady on the other end, in a cramped office with a hundred other call centre workers, listened to the man's stumbled breathing. She knew how he felt. Hopeless at times. 
 
 `` Yes.'' 
 
 `` Great...'' said Fred, brightening up a bit, realizing that Molly had a beautiful voice. She reminded him of his girlfriend who had been killed by a lorry two years prior. `` Can you help me with tax forms?'' 
 
 Molly chuckled. `` I think that's a bit too much for me. Even if I should know everything.'' 
 
 Fred snapped out of it. There was no sense talking to a stranger on some prank line about his taxes... speaking of such, there was also no flame on his cigarette either. But he could still smell smoke. 
 
 `` Sir?'' 
 
 Fred scrambled up off the bed just as it caught fire. He threw the bed over but it only served to engulf more of his things with flame. 
 
 He headed to the window of his fifteenth storey flat. The door was burning, the smoke around his head, and the fire heading toward him. 
 
 `` What is the meaning of life?'' He asked, a poet in his final moments. 
 
 Molly listened- was that burning? She took her own packet off her desk and lit up at her workstation. Other workers gave strange looks. 
 
 `` Please...'' 
 
 She exhaled. `` Death.'' 
 
 Fred jumped.
