I found an iPhone on the ground: It was sitting beside the curb outside my apartment. A white iPhone 4S in surprisingly good condition. I scooped it up from the ground to get a closer look. It probably belonged to a high school girl, judging by the horrendously glittering purple case. I admired the phone anyway – tacky though the case was, it had protected its charge fairly well.
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The phone had not only survived what I assumed was a fall from a careless girl’s book bag, but it was in pristine condition. No hairline cracks, no dings, no dents… nothing.
As I marched into my apartment, throwing my bag on the floor and shedding my coat and shoes, I continued inspecting the phone. Whoever lost it must surely be missing it. I pressed the home button and the screen lit up. A swipe right and I discovered that the phone was not, in fact, locked. Thank goodness for stupid teenage girls (ignoring, for the moment, that I used to be exactly one of those). I searched the contacts, found one labeled “Mom” and pressed the call button.
It was as though the touch screen hadn’t registered my fingertips. Puzzled, I pressed “call” again. And again. Nothing.
It was at that moment that I got a call on my own cell phone, a black iPhone 6. I swiped to answer and the voice of my best friend reached my ears.
“Hey, Amanda! How was your test today?”
The phone momentarily forgotten, I fell into a deep conversation with Anna about the absolute chaos that is university life. We chatted for a bit about whatever things 20-something year-old girls talk about before she got to the point.
“You busy tonight? There’s a cool club that opened up not too long ago downtown and a few of my friends wanna go. You should come with!”
I glanced around at the comfort of my apartment. I was a pretty quiet person who preferred to sit inside and read a good book, as opposed to my outgoing Anna who was always getting into heaps of trouble. It’s always the story, isn’t it? Opposites attract. As much as I wanted to stay in tonight, I smiled and agreed, much to Anna’s squealing delight. How can I deny a request from my best friend?
We set up plans and I hung up the phone. Then I remembered the other phone sitting on my couch, dejected. I picked it up and opened it to the owner’s mother’s contact information. That’s right! I punched the number into my own phone and hit “call.” I could at least call this way.