I rode up the quiet Main Street in the lingering evening. All the cars were gone and it was relatively silent. Except…
Bring! Brrriinngg! Rang the phone in the telephone booth. The young man in the wife-beater t-shirt, low-slung jeans, and backwards hat picked up the receiver.
“Ello, British Company speaking,” he said with a fake Cockney accent.
I busted up laughing, because it was so out of the ordinary. Then the laughter increased as I saw the other youth around the corner of the local deli on his cell phone, talking to Mr. British Company.
Ah, yes, to be young and silly again.
Yes. This is not true flash fiction, because it’s actually reality. I did see this happen and I was riding my bike up the street one quiet evening not too long ago.