How a Little Girl’s Memory Helps Save Her Dad’s Life
Desperate Dial Tone
The door slammed shut behind Lily with a jarring thud, the flimsy barrier a poor shield against the terror gnawing at her. She stumbled towards the kitchen counter, her gaze fixed on the red phone. Tears blurred her vision, droplets splashing onto the worn receiver as she snatched it up.
Trembling hands fumbled with the buttons, finally connecting with a dial tone that echoed like a frantic heartbeat. A choked sob escaped Lily’s lips, the first sound to break the silence since John’s fall. “Mommy,” she stammered. “Daddy fell!” Laced with raw urgency, the single, fractured sentence pierced through the phone line.
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