A Dial That Rings

I noticed a heavy black rotary phone resting on the edge of the low wooden side table. Walking up to it quietly, I paused to study the circular dial with its clear numbers. Slowly, I reached out my long index finger and placed it into the hole for number nine, turning it steadily until the metal stopper clicked. When I let go, the dial whirred smoothly back on its own, making a low mechanical hum that resonated in the quiet evening. I rested my hand on the polished wood, waiting to see if a distant voice would answer.