[ 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 .

A somewhat familiar marimba melody cut a hole in the quiet darkness. I sat up and put on my glasses and tried to find the source of the sounds. Beneath my bed lay a glowing rectangle. It was a smartphone from a popular brand, an iphone. On its screen two alternatives presented themselves. One with a green, half abstract shape, another with a similar, but red. I was curious to see what was going on. I mean I do n't have an iphone, so why were there now one under my bed? 
 I accepted the call and a small light awoke on top of the phone followed by a face appearing on the screen. And not just any face, it was a face that I've last seen turned down toward into a pool of blood on the asphalt, two blocks north from the office. I was still in shock. This was just a dream. Of course. I swallowed down the sudden impulse to cry, closed my eyes and drew in air through my nostrils. I let my chest fill up with the dry bedroom air. And I let it back out into the room through my mouth. 
 The smartphone was still in my hand. A video conversation was still active. That face – not crushed; not covered in blood – was still in the small frame on the display, still moving around slightly occasionally blinking, scratching an ear, as people, who are alive, do. 
 I gasped and the smartphone fell from my hand, down into the mattress were it bounced and fell to the floor. I rushed, escaped the bedroom. But halted when I heard the all too familiar voice that belonged to the face. 
 Wait asshole! 
 I picked the phone up again. 
 Before I could say anything the face started to speak. 
 I have something really important to tell you and I do n't have much time. 

