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Death of The Payphone

Halfway to the grocery store I realized I'd left my cell phone on the kitchen counter.  Panicked, I looked for an easy place to turn around, but nothing was easy.  So, I made the bold decision to keep going.  Hey, I lived for years without a cell phone. Why do I need one now just to go to the grocery store? 
Pushing my cart through the aisles I was twitching. I needed that phone. What if something happens and I need to make a call?  I made it safely through the checkout without a heart attack or armed robbery, and headed back to my car... scanning for a payphone... just in case.     Nothing. 
Driving home,  I looked on every corner hoping to see my old friend, the Payphone.   I drove for blocks... looking up and down streets, in mini malls, and in gas stations until finally, outside a dilapidated liquor store, there it was.  A payphone.  
Beaten,  broken, and covered in grime, this was once the great equalizer.   Everyone, rich and poor, used this shared tool to communicate.  To call a loved one,  place a stock trade,  order more heroin.   Surely, this relic would soon be removed, and I worried that maybe we've been too quick to do away with public phones.   

I made it home safely,  cradled my phone lovingly, looked deep into its camera eye,  and swore I would never leave it behind again.

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