Seven Years of Unplayed Messages

Summary

I was using Connor’s phone to order DoorDash when my finger accidentally swiped onto our chat history.

What met my eyes was a blinding wall of blue dots.

For seven years, every single voice note I had ever sent him sat there, flagged by that tiny, unplayed blue circle.

But he had replied to every single one.

His responses were always the same: Sounds good. Love you, babe. In a meeting.

I accidentally backed out of our thread and saw the contact he had pinned to the very top of his list.

The name read: Carol - R&D.

Carol’s voice notes were all a minute long—the maximum length allowed.