She probably won’t get to know that he called her. In her drunken state last night, she left her smartphone somewhere; god knows where. And when she’ll get it back some day eventually, their meeting on a rainy Friday night in a crowded pub, is only going to be a past episode in her past life.
In the next morning, sitting in a cab to the hospital. His glance falls on his smartphone and, being in this nervous state, he starts to scroll through all possible lists. This incoming call that he didn’t answer. If it was her and their possible (well, what was it? the start of a short romance? something short-time, or long-time?). He wants to explain her why he didn’t answer last night. Why he probably won’t have time to meet for the next couple of weeks. Why he needs to be at his family’s side, particularly his brother’s. This is all inside him. These thoughts that want to leave his mind, and meet with hers. A good idea that doesn’t succeed. When he hears a male voice answering the call, he just hangs up.
He doesn’t answer her phone call. A situation that makes her nervous. They quite clicked last night, didn’t they? Maybe this isn’t even his phone number and he just played a trick on her? It’s 6pm on a Saturday evening; she sits alone in her small flat, nervous. Anxious about this guy. About her attraction towards men in general. One part of her is willing to cry, another to firstly scream and then go into the bathroom; getting dressed up and catch another men. In the end, devil wins over angel. For a 100 percent; she plays the whole game until the (bitter) end.
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.