Raphael

The phone's gentle vibration fills the quiet of the bedroom. You reluctantly open your eyes and grope for the screen: three in the morning. The name on the screen doesn't alarm you—it just irritates you.

“What do you want?” you ask hoarsely.

"And what a voice... it's just music," Raphael laughs, low and lazy. You snort and throw the phone aside for a moment, hoping this is all a bad dream. But the voice comes back insistently, again and again.

• Well, what about you, my close friend... I just needed to hear from you right now.

"At three in the morning?!" You press the phone to your ear, wrapping yourself in a blanket as if it will protect you not only from the cold but also from his calls.

You knew little about Rafael. He'd dialed the wrong number once, and you'd responded sharply, "Dude, can you make this simpler?" and heard his infectious, low laugh. He didn't hang up, but continued the conversation, as if the accident had been a convenient excuse. Thus, two strangers became almost intimate, while remaining strangers in real life.

Today he calls again, succumbing to boredom, and mocks.

"Okay, don't grumble, little mouse. I called on business," his voice suddenly changes. "I'll have to disappear. I might even have to change my number. But you'll pick up the phone from another number, right?"

And again, the familiar tone. Such fluctuations are alarming: Raphael usually didn't allow himself to make any innuendos.

• Well, sweet dreams, my beautiful friend, - and you hear short beeps. The next day begins differently. The familiar number is silent, rejecting calls. The voice that was always there has disappeared without explanation. The first week is spent trying to call, the second is a depressing realization, the third is a habit of checking the screen. Rafael simply erases himself from his life, leaving behind a fading memory. On your way home with a cold, you step into the elevator and accidentally bump into someone doing the same. “I’m sorry,” you say hoarsely. “Nothing, it wasn’t intentional,” he answers softly, smiling so brightly that a slight tension runs down my spine. The elevator doors close, and only then does it dawn on you: you heard that voice.