Graffiti Mystery by DSDragon

Challenge: Invent a character who sees a phone number on a restroom wall. Describe what happens when he or she dials it.

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BRRRRIIIING! A telephone in one of the poorer sections of Frederick, Maryland rang. A kind-looking woman of about 25 years picked up the receiver, and the ringing stopped.

"Hello?" she asked into the apparatus once it was held firmly at her ear.

No response. The woman repeated her greeting.

"Hello?"

When she still didn't get a response and didn't hear the dial tone, the woman began to get angry.

"Listen, whoever you are, you better start talking or I'll call the cops."

Finally, the person on the other end spoke.

"N-No, that won't be necessary... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you, but..." the voice sounded male, and very nervous.

The woman sighed. "But what?"

"I-you probably won't like this... are you sure you want to hear it?"

At the woman's mumbled affirmative, the young man continued.

"First, my name's Joe, and I usually don't pay attention to graffiti written on bathroom stalls--"

"Written where?!?" the woman interrupted.

"Please, let me finish," Joe requested.

"Alright, I'm listening."

"As I was saying, I usually don't pay attention to the bathroom graffiti, but someone had written your number on the stall... only it was--I don't know--different from the rest of it."

"Different? How so?" Now the woman was getting intrigued.

Joe continued with the tale. "I don't know. It didn't have the usual 'Call for a good time,' that's for sure. All those are usually just scratched carelessly into the paint. Instead, your number seemed like it had been painstakingly painted over the painted-cinderblock of the bathroom wall. And it said 'If you need a friend.' It seemed like the person who wrote it knew someone at this number, and they were such a good friend to that person, that they couldn't help but want to share such goodness.

I know it sounds corny, but it's the truth. Someone wrote your phone number on the back wall of the third stall in one of the men's restrooms at the mall over on the corner of McCain Drive and Route 40."

"Hmm..." the woman mused over the story a bit. He could just be trying to butter me up. I don't know him at all... Then again, I could use someone to talk to... It's not like I'm gonna give him my address right away or anything... Alright, let's see how this story ends then. "Well then, if it seems like they thought I'd be a good friend--I live alone, so I'd be the one they were talking about, you see--then I guess I'd better live up to that. My name's Cecilia, by the way. Do you like music?"