[ 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 .

It had been a quiet week, really dead. I had n't been in the mood for my family, my friends. It was easier to stay in bed, in my darkened bedroom, listening to music on my phone, curtains and earbuds an effective barrier to the world. My days and nights consisted only of sleeping and thinking. 
 
 At some stage, I understood, someone would wonder where I was. So it came as no surprise when my phone finally sang out in the darkness. I turned away from the alert, squeezing my eyes shut against the flash from the lit-up screen. After a few chimes, it was silent and I turned to see who had called. 
 
 I had just unlocked the phone when it chimed again. I frowned, deep inside my burrowed mound of blankets. The picture was mine, a selfie I had taken when I was walking by the lake last month, squinting against the sun. Facetime must have a glitch, I supposed. I ignored it again. 
 
 I did n't want to turn the sound down; I was awake, and awake meant loud music, shutting out people, thoughts, feelings. I blasted some Radiohead and adjusted my blanket burrow. Another chime interrupted the song, and I sighed in irritation. Fine! 
 
 I tapped my phone to answer the call, then sucked in a breath when I saw the caller's face appear, a blue glow lighting up my hidey-hole. 
 
 It was me. 
 
 ``... me, oh God, help me,'' phone-me sobbed to real-me. 
 
 `` What's happening? I do n't understand! Who are you?'' 
 
 `` Help me... I need...'' There were holes in her speech, pockets of silence where her ( my ) lips moved but I could hear nothing. 
 
 `` What do you need? What can I do?'' 
 
 ``... do nothing! There's... can do... late.'' 
 
 `` Too late? Too late for what? Hey! Hey!'' But the called had ended. I tried to reconnect with her, me, whoever she was. But nothing. I threw off the blanket pile and stood, joints cracking, holding my phone up high in the hope of some miraculous outdated reception boost. What if she called back? What if she needed my help? Where *was* she? 
 
 I rushed out of the room to stand closer to the router, the smell of flowers hitting my nostrils as I dashed. In the living room I skidded to a stop. The room was full of flowers. Every horizontal surface, including the floor, had a vase or a basket or a bouquet of flowers resting on it. The smell was almost suffocating. I turned slowly on the spot, utterly confused. A silver-edged card glittered from a bunch near my feet, and I plucked it out. 
 
 `` Dear Beth and Rico, our most sincere condolences for your loss. We are thinking of you at this sad time, Doug and Liz.'' I spied another and yanked it out of a wreath, scanning frantically. 
 
 `` Beth and Rico, we are grieving with you. Gaby was such a vivacious --'' She let the card flutter to the floor and grabbed another, and another. 
 
 `` We will miss Gaby...'' 
 
 `` I remember when Gaby was a toddler...'' 
 
 `` Gaby will be sorely missed at school...'' 
 
 The phone chimed again. I looked down automatically and jumped when I saw my face again. I answered the call. It was clearer this time. Her face was solemn, calm, compassionate. 
 
 `` Gaby, it's time.'' 
 
 I nodded, unable to speak. 
 
 `` We're waiting for you outside, Gaby.'' Phone-Gaby disconnected. I turned my phone off and placed it carefully on the floor, next to a photo of me with my parents. We were grinning on a beach, another reminder of that summer. We had our arms around each other and my mother and I were laughing at a terrible joke Dad had told. I touched their faces with my fingertips. 
 
 I walked outside, closing the door gently behind me. The sun was rising.
