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| The phone rang once, twice-then someone picked it up. "You got the wrong number!" a man's voice said before the line went __1__. But I called again. "I said you got the wrong number!" came the voice. Once more the phone clicked in my __2__. How could he know I had a wrong number? So I __3__ a third time. The man said. "Is that you again?" "Yeah, it's me." I answered. "I wonder how you knew I had the wrong number before I even said nothing." "None of my business. You __4__ it out!" He hung up the phone again. I sat there for a short time and then called the man back. "Have you __5__ with it yet?" he asked. "The only thing I can think of is …__6__ ever calls you." "You got it!" The phone died for the fourth time. I rang him again. "Well, I thought maybe I should be the first to __7__ to you." He began to laugh and told me, "My name is Adolf Meth. I'm 88 years old, and I haven't had so many wrong numbers in one day in 20 years!" We both __8__. We talked for ten minutes. Adolf had no family, no friends, just like me. Everyone he had been __9__ to had died. Since then, we became phone friends. We called each other almost every day. And I told him about my life and my __10__. On one phone about a disagreement that I'd had with my boss, I told him, "I think I __11__ have it out with him." Adolf said. "Let things __12__ down. When you get as old as I am, you find out that time takes care of a lot. If things get __13__, then you can talk to him." "You know," he said softly one day, "I'm talking to you just the way I'd talk to a boy of my own. I always wanted a family-and children." One morning, I received a call to tell me he had died the night before. With tears in eyes, I heard him asking __14__ I wanted to call him again and again. "Because you __15__ to me, Adolf… | ||||
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