2. Tantalus of the Telephone

*Isolation* lingers by me. I'm in a glass booth, surrounded by telephones. At least one of them begins ringing every 40 seconds or so. Sometimes many ring at once. I cannot reach any of them. Nobody is within earshot, but I can see multitudes just beyond range. Sometimes they look like people I used to know, who called me friend. I know it's just a trick, of course. I have to tell someone the things I have on my mind, but I can contact nobody. I have blunted my hands on the crystal clear glass countless times. Nobody will hear me out. Nobody can even make out what I want to say. This is my punishment, I guess. I would be better off without a mouth at all, without senses, but it is not to be. It _must_ be a lie, what it says here in front of me on the index card taped to the outside of the glass: "They want to know why you refuse to take their *call*."