The old black rotary phone rings, which is a little disconcerting because it’s not plugged into the wall. There’s no chord at all. Of course I don’t pick it up, and it eventually stops ringing.
A few minutes later, it rings again. I’m scared to touch it; eventually it stops ringing again. I pick it up and put it in an old hatbox and take it down to the basement.
Later, I’m trying to sleep, but I can hear the intermittent ringing — distant, muffled — coming from the hatbox in the basement.
I’m going to have to answer it, aren’t I?