Today, she came to say goodbye—for real.
The cemetery gates creaked as she entered. Wet earth and cold clung to her skin. She found his grave, laid chrysanthemums, and let the storm inside her spill. Tears soaked the soil as she whispered apologies that would never reach him.
Shivering, she stood to leave—and realized her phone was gone. Panic rose. She checked her bag, pockets, even brushed the ground. Nothing. Dizziness hit. She stumbled to a nearby mausoleum, leaning against the cold stone for support.
Then—a faint buzzing.
A phone lay on the floor. Not hers. Hesitant, she picked it up and pressed the answer button.
“Hello?”
“Oh! Someone answered! Thank God!” a man’s voice said. “I lost my phone yesterday!”
“I… I’m in the cemetery,” she whispered, shaky.
“That makes sense. I was working there. Are you okay?”
Her vision blurred. Walls tilted. The phone slipped from her fingers, clattering to the stone. “Hello? Hey—are you okay?” His voice faded as darkness swallowed her.
The last thing she felt was the cold stone beneath her cheek—and the faint, precious kick of the baby inside her.
What would you do if you found a lost phone in a cemetery? Share your thoughts in the comments!