Ringing

He had never had a day like it.

It would be hard for any bystander to say what it was that put him in the emergency ward, but he was definitely mumbling something about ringing. His day had not started well. The battery dying in his portable alarm clock started it all. He woke half an hour late and cut himself shaving. Out at the car, it wouldn’t start. Hard to believe, but this was a case of two in a row. He waited an age for a bus. When he got off and began the five minute walk to the shop he tried to check the time, but dropped the phone instead. The glass was cracked and the screen was black. By the time he arrived at his boutique patisserie shop it was late morning. Those customers that would have been waiting for the shop to open first thing, to pick up their beginning-of-the-day orders, were long gone.

As he entered he was greeted by two sounds, the phone was ringing and he thought he could hear water running. In the back he found the room was flooded. The tap was running, he was sure he’d turned it off. Maybe the washer, he thought. The phone was still ringing. Regardless, he sloshed his way through ankle deep water to reach the sink. Turning the tap stopped the flow. He’d think about it later. He’d also sort the flooding out later. He really needed to open the shop. On the way back through he switched the kettle on. He hadn’t even had time for a cuppa before leaving home. It made a crackling noise that he hadn’t noticed before, but the light came on.

The phone was still ringing.

He returned to the front and turned the sign to ‘open’ and it fell off. The sucker was still in place, but the cord had broken. He picked it up and did a quick knotting job and put it back against the window. The phone was still ringing, but his attention was drawn to a peculiar smell. Then he noticed smoke coming from the back. He ran in to find the plastic power base that holds the kettle was melting and smouldering and the paper notes pinned to the board behind it were on fire. Being careful to avoid touching the hot metal, he picked the kettle up and splashed water over the flames. He finally got it all out, noting that a lot of what was there would probably now be unreadable. The phone was still ringing.

Back at the front, he was making his way around the counter to get to the phone, when his arm caught the side of a display stand, sending the rack of pastry toppings and fillings crashing to the floor. One of the larger jars quickly rolled towards the front door, where it smashed, creating a large pool of maple syrup. The phone was still ringing. He moved towards it as the front door opened. He held up a hand to warn the customer to step over it. He apologised and bent down and reached in to a low cupboard to grab a cloth and a dustpan and brush to temporarily clean it up.

As he came up, he banged his head on the overlapping end of the counter. The phone was still ringing. He stood dazed for a moment before raising a finger, asking the customer to wait a moment.

He reached across and picked up the phone, he said in an exasperated voice, “Hello, whose speaking?”

The voice at the other end said, “You are.”

His eyes rolled up, his knees buckled and with a whimper, he collapsed to the floor, causing a number of jars to roll around.

That’s when the customer called for an ambulance…

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