“Somebody dialed the wrong number trying to reach me, but I didn’t pick up because I didn’t recognize the number, or the legitimacy of the situation.”

“Everyone else could get through to my mother: all they had to do was dial a number and wait for her to pick up. If only, I thought, it was that easy for me.”

“The number I had for her didn’t work. But in this depression, could you blame it?”

“Is this Jimmy Redstone?” the male voice at the other end of the line inquired. I couldn’t identify the voice. I didn’t recognize the number and the used car salesman tone didn’t do anything to reduce my annoyance at being interrupted during breakfast. “Who the hell you think would be answering his phone?” I snarled.”

“Pick a number between one to ten. Now, pick the number that you think I picked you to pick.
”

“I’m so lonely, I just need somebody to call me—even if it’s a wrong number. I’m also hungry, so maybe that caller could order me a pizza after they hang up on me.”