"Come back." She thought as the sound of an unanswered call ended abruptly, transforming the harsh ring into the lifeless impersonation of a human voice. "You have reached the mail box of..." He was gone; useless as a friend, and eventually, as a person. He was riding an introverted wave. She imagined him as a shipwrecked sailor on the island of Sirenum scopuli, rotting away as he lay hypnotized by the inescapable song of the Sirens. Soon enough the song would end and so would he.
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