The death of a phone
Oh god.
Fourteen percent! The night is still so young.
Okay okay, um, exit out of all your open apps. That’ll save battery. I guess I don’t need to take that many photos….or any at all at this point.
This is fine, I’ll just converse with people around me. Like in the old days. It’ll be great. Oh no, awkward silent pause in the room. I’ll just look at my pho…
NO.
You can’t, you need it. The battery bar is red. We’re past the point of no return.
What if you end up like Tanner Darwell wandering the streets of an unfamiliar town in the dead of winter, sprinting around trying to find your friends because you lost them at the bar and can’t call them cause your phone’s dead? What happens if you get lost miles away and are forced to live off the land?
I look so good tonight too.
This means no Snap-story updates. How will the world know that I’ll be getting intoxicated beyond belief only to wake up to an embarrassing 160-second long story of blurry selfies taken on a random dance floor? Selfies that I’ll consider deleting before checking to see that over 130 people have already seen them so there’s no point?
Did I even go out with the girls if there’s no public proof?
“Does anyone have a charger?”
No? Oh, Claire does but she’s charging her own phone?
Sick.
We’re reaching critical levels of battery life here.
Nice percent!
How did that happen? Quick, turn down the brightness as far as it will go.
I can’t see a damn thing anymore, but it’s worth it.
Who do I even need to text? Is someone trying to get in contact with me? Not that I can remember … nope I don’t believe so.
Well chill…what’s the problem then? Your phone dies then so what? You’re cool. You’re with it. Who needs it?
I NEED IT. Lord knows I need to refresh Instagram every half hour at least. If I’m not ready to hit my friends with the latest meme, who even am I anymore? My reputation will be ruined. I will be nothing.
What if it dies and I end up getting an important call from my friends about my fantasy team, like Peter Latulippe did, that completely blows my chances of winning? Wait I don’t even have a fantasy team.
You guys want me to call the Uber? I can’t I … oh Claire did it last time?
Of course she did.
Okay deep breath out. We’re going to make this quick and efficient. Get your fingers ready. From the moment we unlock this phone it’s go time.
Six Percent!!!
Who designed these things? Sweet baby Jesus! If only I could get my hands on Claire’s charger. Her memes aren’t even that funny. Why does she need a full charge? I would be happy with a measly 30 percent.
Forty percent would feed my family and water my crops. But I won’t be greedy here.
What if that cute guy snaps me asking to hang out and I open it but my phone dies before I ever get to respond so he thinks that I hate his guts and never want to hear from him like what happened to Liz Havens?
What a cold cruel world we live in.
Why is my heart racing?
Okay touch ID login. Swipe left to see more of my apps. Where’s Uber?! I swear when I rearranged my apps I put it right next to Spotify. Everyone knows I play the jams when the Uber driver’s got an AUX cord.
Four percent!
I don’t have time for this…oh there it is!
Okay set location…request the Uber…ugh $12? What is he driving, a limo? Okay, driver’s three minutes away and he’s in a Honda Accord…oh he’s kind of cute….
I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS. ABORT.
LOCK the screen.
Ugh, Claire just sent a meme to the group chat. I bet it’s devoid of any kind of tasteful humor.
What’s happening?! Why is the screen frozen?
No, no, no, no don’t do this. I loved you. I cared for you. I got you off the streets.
Whatever you do screen, don’t go black.
Don’t do it!
You did it.