I dropped my phone in the harbor today. I was coxing the men’s eight boat down to the dock. There’s step down that I usually shine a light on so the men don’t trip with a 300 pound boat on their shoulders. My mobile slipped from my hand. Clunk, clunk, splash. Fuck my life. I knew it was gone.
Me: Guys, I dropped my phone in the water. Watch your step today.
Emre: Wow, you’re surprisingly calm about all this.
I tried to keep my cool while we were rowing, but man… I was super blue.
All of those memories. I had a shit ton of photos on my phone that I would occasionally look through when I felt sad.
It’s a good thing I have a great memory.
Fuck it. I’m gonna say it.
I want the photos of Michael back.
I have half a mind to jump into the harbor for my phone so I can get my SIM card back.
There’s a fisherman who always stands on the dock. Perhaps I can pay him to fish my iPhone out of the murky depths.
I’d pay a heavy price for those memories.