“The voice of Love seemed to call to me, but it was a wrong number.”
“He loved me and I loved him, but the number in my head was telling me that he was going to die today. And the numbers had never been wrong.”
“Well, if I called the wrong number, why did you answer the phone?”
“I remember my first cell phone number still. I may call it and ask to speak to myself from eight years ago. If they say I have the wrong number I’ll tell them, No, right number, wrong time.”
“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.”
“Hey, where are you going?" His voice, confused yet curious, called after me. "Hey. Why didn't your mother name you Maybe, or We'll see, or What's-Your-Number? That way, we could call our first born Absolutely.”