Your voice echoes and I ask you to repeat. Distance ghosts and prolongs haunting. We are always hanging up and re-dialing, looking for sunny spots where voices are less reedy, mis-timing the interval of a sentence. We are always breaking up.
You are convinced that the right phone card will solve the problem, and have set up a rating system. An hour of talk time yields three complete sentences and an avalanche of interrogatives. We abandon pardon for what. Learn to be telegraphic.
I miss the luxury of complete sentences.