He was jogging along the footpath, later than usual.
It was an early evening jog that he went for a couple of times a week. He had started late this time and it was growing dark. He reached the tiny lookout with its view of the ocean. His last rest spot, only two minutes from the carpark. He was catching his breath when he heard it. Barely audible over the sound of the waves crashing below. It was an alarm of some sought. Maybe a mobile phone. He looked around; nobody! He retraced his steps and it grew louder. It was coming from the cliff’s edge. He left the path and made his way carefully. It was definitely there. He laid down flat on his stomach and worked his way to the edge. It was louder now. He looked over and down at the huge drop. There it was, glowing in the semi-darkness, a mobile phone. It was on a jutting rock, not quite within his reach, not safely, anyway. He was considering this when the alarm stopped and the screen went black. He scrambled back away from the edge and sat wondering about it. He decided to take another run tomorrow, but much earlier.
The following day he came to the same spot in full daylight. There was no one else around, so he made his way to the edge. It was still there. This time, he could see clearly how to get hold of it without any possibility of falling. He retrieved it and sliding back from the edge, he sat looking at it. The home button brought up the details of the recent alarm. He read the single word, ‘Bin’. Presumably a reminder about rubbish collection. It seemed that he didn’t need a password to open it up. It may identify the owner. He was jiggling with the unfamiliar buttons when ‘messages’ opened. The last was from several nights before. He felt a growing discomfort as he took the words in.
It read: ‘We can work it out, sweetheart. Meet me at the lookout at 1:00am and we can talk about it privately’.