Missing Cell

Don’t say Pop lost — say, Pop misplaced — the cell phone he takes everywhere but never uses; never turns on. He doesn’t even know its number.

Hunting for the thing in his car, find an undeveloped roll of film lodged between the driver’s seat and the middle armrest. The roll could be as old as the car. And the car’s twelve years old.

This was a month ago. The phone still hasn’t turned up, so we got him a new one. The roll of film sits on my dresser, waiting for a dark room.

Could pictures of grandma be on it? She’s been gone almost ten years.

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