After The Phone Rang

She set the handset back down into its cradle, gently, as if afraid to spring a long-dormant trap.

“Who was it?”

“Grandpa.”

Her mother turned, a stony look of disapproval set on her face. It had only been a week since the service. “That’s not funny.”

“It was Grandpa.” She stared at the phone for a moment, slowly picked up the handset and held it up to her ear again; this time, she heard only a dial tone.

“Well if your grandfather called from beyond the grave, it must have been important. What did he say?

“He said, ‘you’re next.’”