"Huh, my phone!" I blurted out unknowingly.
My hand instinctively flew to my pocket.
No… It couldn't be.
[Is it because you aren't dead that's why you think your phone also won't die...]
Just shut up. Do you know that my phone was expensive? Have some respect.
It was a stupid thing to say, mourning a piece of electronics while standing in a field of rubble with broken ribs, but it felt like a last straw.
A piece of my normal, scrappy life had been shattered.
[At this point I don't even know who you are.]
I brought out my phone hurriedly, my hope crumbling as I looked at it.
The system was right. It wasn't just dead. It was a tragedy.
The screen was a spiderweb of cracks so dense I could barely see the black beneath.
The casing was dented and warped, and a fine trickle of glass dust fell from its seams when I moved it.
It refused to switch on. No faint glow, no vibrating plea for a charger. It was just a cold, dead weight in my hand. It was gone.
