He’s about to finish his second pint this evening when his smartphone shows an incoming call. No number. It could be the girl he met last night and who he gave his number. It would be nice to hear her voice again, he thinks for a second, but he doesn’t answer the call, and it stops eventually. His eyes wander around in the pub. Only in his direct sourroundings, there are more smartphones than his fingers could tip on. How it was only some years ago, he begins to think, how we started to type these little messages in class room. And how we waited our crush to answer. With emoticons winning over the actual number of words. How grandma gave him money to buy his own mobile phone. That one he could have more music on. It’s when he lifts his gaze from the pint that he sees that there’s second call. His sister. This time he answers it. They won’t talk about crushs or music.