*Isla*
I am staring at the telephone, missing my youngest brother, wondering how he is doing, wishing I could see him, hug him, see his smile… when the phone rings, and I jump back into my chair at the dining table, almost knocking it over.
The situation seems a little creepy. Lately, Mystica has been filling my mind with all kinds of thoughts about what could be going on with my mental state–the dreams, the memories, all of that stuff–that when I am looking at the phone and hear it break the noiseless space of my room with its high-pitched chirp, I can’t help but wonder for a moment if I did that with my mind.
Shaking my head at my ridiculousness, I get up and rush over to answer the phone before the caller hangs up. I have no idea who would be calling when I haven’t given my number to
