Ting! Goes the phone. Ah, text from Daughter at college.
Hey
I'm all ears; do go on.
Ting! Have
Ting! Some news
Why are you using this strange format, dribbling out the words? You're trying to break something gently? Or — more likely! — you're in ICU in an oxygen tent barely able to muster the strength to type! I knew it!
There is an agonizing pause of at least 17 seconds, which, in the modern world of texts, means someone was hit by a car. That's it, isn't it? You were going to the hospital with COVID symptoms, texting, and walked in front of a train! A minute ago I was perfectly happy, and now I'm praying someone picks up the phone that was knocked from her hand and texts: "She's OK."
Six more seconds pass! Of course, her phone is locked, they don't have her pass code. Why, oh why, did she have to go to college in another town far away? Why did we even tell her about college? Sure, she wanted to get out of the house, live on her own, and for some reason "setting up residence in the garden shed" didn't appeal.