. . . my finger across my iPhone this morning it was like the screen had gone numb. No response. Tap. Tap. Tap. Nothing. Then when I stopped touching it it started acting as though I was touching it, but I wasn't.
Then it opened my music library of its own accord and started playing The Times They Are A-Changing. Not what I would have chosen, but it hit me just right, so I sat back and listened. Then just when I was settling into Dylan's elastic groove it started playing Pink Moon, and that hit me just right too. Then its flashlight came on and stayed on. Then it opened the web browser and entered a thumbs-up emoji in the search box. I figured it was probably acting crazy because I dropped it at the gym yesterday, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was legitimately haunted, that it was trying to communicate with its user — me — the only way it knew how.
Then it opened my music library of its own accord and started playing The Times They Are A-Changing. Not what I would have chosen, but it hit me just right, so I sat back and listened. Then just when I was settling into Dylan's elastic groove it started playing Pink Moon, and that hit me just right too. Then its flashlight came on and stayed on. Then it opened the web browser and entered a thumbs-up emoji in the search box. I figured it was probably acting crazy because I dropped it at the gym yesterday, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was legitimately haunted, that it was trying to communicate with its user — me — the only way it knew how.