I am in the dark living room
on the ground floor of the house
, expecting a call from my girlfriend. My phone
rings. I climb the staircase towards the light
of the bathroom. Inside, facing a mirror
I answer the phone. It's not for me but for my mom
. I give her my phone so she can talk to whoever it is.
Now I have to use the bathroom but my mom is occupying it. I go outside to a public toilet. It is in a squat, brown building, that looks just like the Paradiso nightclub. After I'm done, as I leave my mom comes up to me and returns my phone and goes in to the public toilet. But now I am lost. How do I get home? All of the streets are unfamiliar. I wish I had asked my mom before she went to the bathroom.
At home I try to call my voice-mail but some Asian woman answers. It's obviously the wrong number. She gets upset, says something incomprehensible, and hangs up on me. I look at the number I had auto-dialled and see that it is a 900 (commericial, high-toll) number not the voicemail number at all. Someone must have changed it. I am having trouble seeing the display on my phone. The black leather phone case keeps getting in the way. I try to push it out of the way, adjust it somehow but it's just no use. It must not be my phone case.
I am pretty upset by all of this and ask my brother how this number got on my phone. He doesn't know. There is a stack of Japanese bondage films stacked on a table in the dark living room. He picks one up and suggests that the number may have come from the movie credits down at the bottom of the box. He hands me the box so I can see. But it's an old video and the writing on the box has faded and is now blurry beyond recognition. I tell him the box is useless. But it must have been he who changed the number as these are his films. He denies owning them, saying that he's not interested in old films like these. But I see some newer films and even some Japanimation, which he loves, in the stacks. I know he must be lying and the films are his.
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