Flowers from 1970

The telephone

I hope you like the book. The owner of the book is astr0nomika go look at her book at Ao3.

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George walked up the steps of his house, keys in hand and a dark look on his face.

The neighborhood had been quiet except for the occasional passing car, which did not help his ongoing battle with isolation and loneliness.

The quieter it was, the louder his thoughts were, and so as he entered his empty home which housed a quiet so large a drop of a pin would be highly audible, his head filled with a mass of concepts.

He trudged his way up to his room, carrying his jacket in his hand as he threw his keys onto the desk and collapsed on his bed.

He waited a while, his mind the only thing keeping him company, and it wasn't good company. All he had were regrets and scenarios of brighter futures had he made better decisions In the past. It's been lonely since he moved away from his family in England.

He moved into a small house in the old part of this town. He lived alone and didn't bother to get to know anyone.

Suddenly he heard a ringing coming from the other side of the room. It wasn't coming from his cellphone, but from the vintage telephone he had found in his house when he first moved in.

He had spent weeks trying to repair it but eventually gave up, but now it seems to be fully operational.

He ran to the phone and answered, "Hello?"

"Hey Sap, can you believe Governor Schlatt had a heart attack and died today? That's insane." A man on the other end of the phone mumbled into the phone.

"I'm sorry, but you must have the wrong number- Today?" George asked, confused.

" Oh well sorry then, but yeah today. It's all over the papers." The voice answered, not bothering to end the call even though it was the wrong number.

George raised his brow, " Are we talking about Governor Schlatt of Florida?"

" Yeah, who else." The man answered, his shrug visible in his tone.

" Schlatt died over fifty years ago, though. Is this like a joke or something?" George was convinced he was talking to either someone very uneducated or down insane.

The man laughed loudly, " I don't know about you, but I don't remember Schlatt dying in 1920." Again in his sure tone, absolutely awestruck at how George could have suggested such an absurd idea.

George had deduced that the man on the other end of the phone could not do simple math. Fifty years ago was not 1920.

"Everyone knows it happened in 1970. Then his right-hand man Tubbo was almost assassinated the next day." George talks fast and in frustration. Why does he insist on winning this argument with a complete stranger? He didn't know. It was just easier to be brave when the person you are arguing with isn't in front of you.

He did not know why he was so hellbent on correcting a stranger, but he did so nonetheless. demands of surrender were thrown at each other but the arguing did not cease.

"Tubbo? Everybody loves Tubbo. He's fine and giving a speech right now, listen." The phone sounded like it was moving and suddenly put to what sounded like a radio.

The radio was barely audible, but George could make out words like " This is a tragic loss." And other such fluke speeches of grief. At this point, George had decided that the only solution was to make it a draw and hung up the phone, so he did.

George had never been one to let his thoughts consume him. He had a natural talent for getting over things quickly because as far he knew the man on the other end of the phone had no significance to him at all.