The phone of Emma, where art thou? I had only seen thee once, or thrice, yet I cannot recall. It mustn’t be far, nor can it be close, for it may well be a mere dream. I had heard of its locale last with the lord of Flavortown, or might it be the one they call, Daddy Skull Face? What are we to do if the lady hasn’t a phone for her wedding to her dearest Turkish fellow, Mehmet, for whom she does not yet know how endeared she is? How is she to look at instagram and refuse to provide her likes to those in most need? Oh woe is me. I myself have yet to receive an invitation to this ceremony, for it is apparent the lady knows not of the details of the wedding, nor is she sure if there be a bar of openness. Without thy phone, she is left pondering her seemingly futile existence, or whether the honeymoon shall take place at Charles E. Cheese’s. The world may never know.