Saying Goodbye To My Samsung Galaxy S4

saying goodbye to samsung galaxy s4

My dress is black, so are my shoes. I crumple the tissue in my lap. So far, I haven’t needed it. So far, I’m keeping together.

I stare at the pew in front of me. I burn letters into it with my eyes. What would I spell?

It would start with an S——No. I promised myself I wouldn’t get emotional. I need to stay strong.

“And now,” the reverend says. He collects his notes in one swift, habitual, gather-and-tap motion. He barely makes a sound. “We will hear from the deceased’s close friends and family.” His eyes fall on mine. He nods, my cue to stand.

I do. The empty clop of my heels against wood floor echoes through the church. Behind the podium, I clear my throat. My notes tremble in my hands. “My Samsung Galaxy S4 was a good phone,” I begin.

ME: “I’m Sorry. Who is this?”

I'm sorry who is this? number unknown humor post

There’s something people do to me—maybe three times out of the year—that really gets under my skin.

It usually happens on a happy, carefree day (because, why ruin a day that’s already messed up?). I’ll be skipping along and bling! BUZZ-BUZZ, my phone goes off.

Who could that be? I wonder.

Is it good news? Bad news? An emoji-fight challenge?

Then it happens. I open up the phone, and I don’t recognize the number.