“Who is this?”
Bring it to the chapel. Put it in the phone.
But here’s a secret: you can keep the memory if you find something that doesn’t belong in Hell. Something from the living world. in.hell.2003
She Googled “public pool drowning 1997 Santa Clara.”
the phone is in the chapel. it rings every hour on the hour. if you answer, you have to say the name of the person who killed you. if you’re right, the door opens. if you’re wrong, the call drops and you start over. “Who is this
She could hear it now. Not through the speakers. Through the drywall. Through the floor. Somewhere in the house, a Nokia 5110 was ringing.
“You know who.”
She tried to redial. Busy signal. Then dead air. Then a voice—female, pleasant, customer-service warm.