So I was in my room, feeling all refreshed because I just had a shower. Dad walks past the room: "OI, I NEED TO USE YOUR PHONE." So I responded with a "mmmmhrgnnnn" or some other variation of the same indiscernible sound. Dad then goes to the garage and drives off.
After I'd done whatever was at hand, I decide to fetch my phone, since Dad needs to use it. So then I look for it. I flip through the stash of papers on my desk, and I don't find anything. I usually don't leave my phone out of sight. 5 minutes later, I still haven't found anything. Looking at the state of my room, I guess I wasn't too surprised. It's going to be in here somewhere.
How it feels to walk in my room^
So we walk around the house, listening out for my phone--- nothing. I think back to the last time I saw my phone: I was sitting on the bus, and my roommate had called me. I answered it. Maybe I'd forgotten to put my phone back in my pocket after I'd answered the call? Now I start to feel uneasy, but I reassured myself that I'd taken it off the bus with me, at least, because I thought I vaguely remembered having it on me whilst I was walking home from the bus stop.
Maybe I dropped it on the way. At this point my roommate offered to look outside with me. Not bothering to change, I walk outside (4 degrees Celsius) in my PJs and sneakers. He grabs a torch, and we walk down to the bus stop on this chilly night. He continues to call my phone on the way, but to no avail. I couldn't find my phone with the torch, and neither of us could hear my phone ringing.
We walked the dark, treacherous roads like two lone hunters, stalking the night.
Dismayed, we go home. On the way my roommate tries to comfort me in a not-very-comforting way. "See if it was my Mum, she's just say oh don't you worry about it, don't feel sad, we'll just buy a new one. Your Dad, however..." I wince as I imagine what Dad would say if he knew I lost my phone. He wanted to use it tomorrow, too. It is a rather expensive phone- and he wouldn't want to replace it.
"Maybe you could blame it on your Dad, just like how he blames things on you," my roommate offers. "Say that if he didn't tell me to call you tonight, you wouldn't have taken the phone out of your pocket, and if you hadn't taken the phone out of your pocket, you wouldn't have lost it." (I got home later than usual and Dad told my roommate to call me because he was out of credit himself)
As much as I'd like to follow my roommate's suggestion, I knew deep down that it wasn't feasible.
When we got home, he got the idea to call my Mum. My parents had gone out together, so maybe Dad had already taken my phone when he told me that he needed it. Except... we'd called my phone a million times. If he had it on him, why didn't he answer? However, I was eager to entertain that sliver of hope, and I dialed Mum's number.
"Mum... I lost my phone. Does Dad---"
"OH YEAH HE TOOK IT WITH HIM, IT'S OKAY DON'T WORRY"
"I WAS SO WORRIED. I WENT OUTSIDE AND LOOKED FOR IT AND---"
Mum laughs, says something along the lines of "GTG KTHXBAI" and hangs up.
I was furious. In fact, I still am.
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