Calling

I give to you streams of consciousness in eleventy-one words...

I sit on the scorching sand; it cools. Beside me, my long dead dog wags his tongue and tail in juxtaposed rhythm. I’m waiting for something, someone. My mother approaches. ‘Do you know…’ she utters, but her voice halts. She shrugs; a melancholy smile crosses her lips. She snaps, and my dog follows her anticipating dinner. Wind swept whispers follow. I listen to infinite deities speak of truth in languages I’ve never learned. A phone rings; my grandmother’s voice announces, ‘you’ve got a calling.’ I ask who it is. I ask where the phone is. I ask where she is. I don’t think to ask what it is. No response comes.