Was This How It Went?

I  stood there holding the phone in my hand, staring at the tiny glowing screen. I suppose that is why I picked it up. It was glowing, and I hadn’t seen something glow before. At the time I didn’t know it was called a phone (where in time in my narrative am I?), and though I had never seen nor used one, somehow (providence perhaps?), I was, and still am, able to operate it.  I found the owner of the phone lying sprawled out, face down on the road with a cavernous hole in his back and gnash out of his shoulder. Is that a human tooth lodged in his spine? Not far from him lay his phone. A light with no light bulb? How ignorant I was, how ignorant I still am. How... I’m self-destructive, full of digressions. Unable to stay on point... where was I?

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Considering the decrepit state of my senses at the time, I somehow  picked the phone up from the pavement. I stood there holding it in my hand, staring at the tiny glowing screen. It was covered with words, so many words that I felt my brain begin to boggle, is that a word, regardless,  it did, it boggled and scrabbled around a bit. I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing. I knew that they were words, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around them. They all just blurred together.Why couldn’t someone just speak to me the words on the screen? That is how I remembered it. Spoken words; words that had utterances, words that fell and rose in cadence, words not encumbered by little nicks and dots and strange symbologies here and there that hold even stranger rules, words that were never met with the reply of ‘you spelled jigglemajoo wrong,’ words that were ephemeral and taken at face value, words chalked full of spirit and that were emoted without yellow circles with obscure meanings, words that I remember I once spoke.  

 Now? I can’t seem to speak anymore. I can’t feel my tongue very well. It is as though it fell off, much like my arm did. I hadn’t remembered that it had, my arm falling off that is, so I was shocked to see it wasn't there when I went to grab the phone. When had it happened? I don’t know, but upon seeing its absence I tried to scream in dismay. Instead, a gurgle groan emanated from my throat. That can't be my voice, I thought in horror. I haven't tried speaking since. 

 That’s not entirely true. There was that one time when I was meandering about a supermarket when a young woman accidentally bumped into me as she turned into the cereal aisle.  “NOOO!” she wailed as she violently shoved me from her and bolted away in sheer terror. I tried to call to her to wait, to ask her what was her beef, but again, a strange gurgle groan burst forth, which to add to my horror, caused her to scream even more. My brain is always fuzzy lately, but I do think she screamed something like "Don't! Stay away from me! No!" I was a bit offended by her tone of voice and her violent gestures. Though, now I wonder how she would have emojied that. Where was I? 

 I tapped the screen with my finger-bone-tip. The words disappeared and a series of icons blipped into neat rows. Pictures, yes, I can understand pictures. This one here appears to be a pencil. Ooh… now what? Single letters—did I at that moment try to type my thoughts? How long had I been alone with them before I found that dead man whose phone I now carry within my pocket? Hmm…? The woman disappeared round the cereal aisle. Alone again. Alone with my thoughts, thoughts that I can’t speak, thoughts that I can’t write d—let’s say I began to record my thoughts at this moment—own. But I can. Yes, I could. Pencil icon power go! What followed were innumerous attempts of me getting my left hand’s fingers to tap upon the screen to spell out words. Over and over again, tap, tap, tap (I hope there aren’t any spelling mistakes), until I finished my first written thought; "she dropped her Captain Crunch Berries." I only wish I could read what I wrote.