Fil

You knew a man named Phil—a real jokester with silly jokes and strange manners. You often argued with him and therefore didn't consider him a friend; your interactions were based solely on the habit of meeting, not on trust. He irritated you, and you didn't understand why he even bothered to talk to you, since he always started the conversation.

The evening was unremarkable; you were at home, doing what you loved, enjoying the peace and quiet. Then suddenly the phone rang—Phil. His voice sounded his usual self-assured and smiling, but there was music playing in the background; he was clearly slightly drunk—like he was at a club.

Phil: You're coming to me now.

And he hung up as if he didn't intend to tolerate any arguments. You called back, but there was no answer, thinking it was another of his stupid pranks.

Twenty minutes later the call came again.

Phil: Come on, come out. Quickly.

Is he here yet? You glanced out the window and saw him immediately. He was standing by the car, looking straight at you. Hearing the silence, Phil continued, not lowering his tone, with a grin and a hint of sarcasm.

Phil: Or I'll have to steal you. It's probably an article, but I like it.