[ WP ] It 's the middle of the night . Your iPhone starts ringing . You wake up . You 're getting a Facetime call from someone who died three days earlier .

His name and face flickered up on the screen only after it had started buzzing. I looked over from my computer screen and dully, mild shock registered in my brain. Everything had been dull lately. In my mind, he was n't dead; he was just calling to tell me some new breakthrough he'd had with whatever he was writing. 
 
 I picked up my phone and held it for a moment, looking at his smugly smiling face from my screen. I should answer it. But who could be calling me from his number? Why? Why would they do that to me? 
 
 I answered it. His boyfriend's face popped up. 
 
 We stared at each other for a minute. He had been crying. I had not been. 
 
 Finally, he swallowed and said, `` You... had texted him last. I plugged in his phone. It said -- come home, stay safe. You wanted him to come over to yours.'' 
 
 I sighed. `` He was out really late. I was closest.'' I looked away from the screen, I did n't want to cry, I never wanted to cry. `` I'll always be his older sister, you know? I'll always want to keep him safe.'' 
 
 `` I know.'' I looked back at him, and when our eyes caught, his face began to crumple again, a small sob releasing itself from his chest like a ghost. The noises he made wore down the very last of my resolve. `` I miss him.'' 
 
 And then we were both crying, ugly tears that they do n't show in the movies clutching our phones, mine and *his*, hoping that the answer laid somewhere in the circuitry.
