Most of the nuance was lost in the pillow, but I interpreted Ian’s comment as ‘answer the fucking phone’, which was pretty much what I was thinking myself. I leaned out of bed at a dangerous angle, raking the carpet with my fingers, trying to get to it. The bonus was that now it was a little bit harder to reach. It fell face down in the carpet, still ringing, the sound now slightly muffled. Fumbling for it in the dark, I sideswiped it and managed to push it off the table. It resolved into a low rattle that was my phone vibrating crossly on the bedside table along with the high-pitched shrill of the most annoying ring tone I could have chosen. I came up from miles below the surface and opened an eye as one part of my brain tried to work out what had disturbed me and another part focused on how to make the noise stop. I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing when the phone rang I didn’t even know that it was the phone that had woken me.
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