The telephone rang loudly throughout the empty garage.
There were no obvious signs of life, rust coated the tools and vehicles long left to rot.
Still someone was trying to get through, someone who'd been waiting for years.
They sat on the other end of the line, phone dangling loosely in their weary hand.
So long now, so long since they dialled and so much longer since it all ended.
An entire nation gone, all but them in their home.
Each day was spent desperately trying to reach another human, another living one at least.
Ghosts clung to certain lines like leeches to fish, speaking in soft static and harsh screeches.
From time to time they gave up calling new numbers and redialled the older ones.
The company was nice, though they only said a few words at a time.
Mostly their last words, sad as it was at least they had other voices to hear besides their own.
Though there's only so many times you can hear someone beg for death before you want to join them.
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