The Pay Phone on Fifth

It was late at night, and he walked down the sidewalk, trying to clear his mind after the day he’d had. The silence of the empty streets pressed in on him, amplifying the loneliness he felt. He wished he had someone to talk to, but his friends were all busy, and he lived alone.

As if the universe had heard his thoughts, a pay phone on the corner started ringing. The sound was so unexpected that he stopped in his tracks. He looked around, but the street was deserted—no one waiting for a call. He was about to ignore it and keep walking, but the idea of talking to someone, even a stranger, was oddly satisfying.

He glanced around once more, then stepped up to the phone.

“Hello?” he said, picking up the receiver.

“Hi!” came a woman’s voice on the other end, cheerful and unexpected.

“Umm… are you looking for someone?” he asked, unsure what else to say.

“Do you normally answer random pay phones?” she replied, amusement lacing her tone.

“No, actually. This is the first time I’ve ever answered one—or even heard one ringing. I thought pay phones were just for outgoing calls.”

“They usually are,” she said, “but if you look at the top, there’s a number for the phone. That way, someone can call it directly.”

He tilted his head, spotting the faded digits on a small metal plate. “Huh. You’re right. So… are you looking for someone, or do you just call random pay phones?”

“The latter,” she said casually.

“Really? You just call random pay phones?” he asked, skepticism creeping into his voice.

She laughed softly. “It’s something I started doing recently.”

“So one day you just decided to sit down at home and call pay phones?” he pressed, trying to imagine it.

“Not exactly,” she replied. “I’m actually at another pay phone right now.”

That stopped him. A moment of silence passed.

“Well,” he said, leaning against the booth, “don’t stop there. You’ve got me intrigued. What made you walk to a pay phone just to call another one?”

“The thought of talking to a random stranger seemed nice,” she said, her voice light. “And this seemed like an interesting way to do that.”

“Am I the first one to answer?” he asked.

“The first one who sounds sober and not homeless.”

“Well, check and check. I’m sober, and I do have a home.”

“So,” she countered, “what made you answer the phone?”

“I was curious about who might be on the other end,” he said.

“Really? I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” she said, a smile evident in her voice, “we’ve already exchanged a few words, and you still haven’t asked who I am. Doesn’t seem like you’re all that curious about who exactly was on the other end.”

He chuckled, leaning against the booth. “Okay, fine. What if I told you I was walking alone, wishing I had someone to talk to, and then the phone rang? I figured it was a sign.”

“That,” she said after a pause, “I might just believe.”

“So, who are you?” he asked.

“Just a lonely girl who wanted someone to talk to. No more, no less.”

“Do you have a name?”

“I do.”

Silence.

“Well… are you going to tell me?”

She laughed softly. “Nope. Not yet. That would ruin the mysterious stranger vibe we’ve got going here.”

Before he could respond, the automated voice cut in: “Please insert twenty-five cents to continue.”

“Do you have a quarter?” she asked, her voice tinged with amusement.

“Sadly, I don’t.”

“I used my last one to make this call.”

He hesitated, then asked, “Same time tomorrow?”

The other end was silent, and the call ended. He wondered if she heard his last words, but he would have to wait till tomorrow to find out.

She glanced at her watch and waited. Normally, by now, she would have called four other payphones, but tonight was different. She was curious if her mysterious stranger would be there, waiting for her call again. With a dollar in quarters jingling in her pocket, she waited until the time felt right, then inserted the first coin and dialed the number.

“Hello?” came his voice.

“You’re there again,” she said, smiling at the familiarity.

“I am. I couldn’t miss our second date.”

“A date?” she teased, her smile widening.

“Well, not your typical date,” he said, “but I showed up to an event of sorts that we... sort of planned.”

“We planned this?” she asked, feigning skepticism.

“In a not-so-typical way,” he replied, his tone warm and confident.

She laughed softly. “Okay, I’ll give you that... in a way. But I don’t think my husband would appreciate it being called a date.”

There was a pause. “You’re married?” he asked, trying—and failing—to mask his disappointment.

“Maybe,” she replied, her laugh light and teasing.

He sighed. “Alright, mysterious maybe-married lady, what can you tell me about yourself? Or, if you’d rather stay secretive, what were you hoping to talk about when you started this little game of payphone roulette?”

“Good question,” she said, considering her response. “Let’s see… I’m between twenty-five and thirty-five years old. I have a job, I live on my own... and I didn’t plan any specific conversations. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone would answer, and if someone did, I figured I’d just see where it went.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “For the record, I’m in that same age bracket. Closer to thirty-five, to give a little more away.”

“So,” she said, “did you really have nothing better to do tonight than wait by a payphone?”

“Not tonight,” he admitted. “I’ve got some work to catch up on, but I can do that later. And what about you? No better plans?”

“I do have plans,” she said, “but not for another hour.”

“A hot date?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“Jealous?” she shot back.

“Maybe.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she said with a laugh. “You don’t know anything about me, and we’ve only talked for, what, five minutes yesterday? It’d be weird if you were jealous.”

“You may be right,” he conceded. “But there’s something exciting about the unknown—about talking to you. And I might be jealous that someone else gets to unravel a bit of that mystery tonight instead of me.”

“Would you still say that if I looked repulsive?” she asked, her tone suddenly serious.

He sighed, pausing for a moment. “I hate to admit it, but… probably not.”

“Well,” she said, “at least you’re honest.”

“It’s the most important quality in a relationship,” he said confidently.

“A relationship? Are we in a relationship?” she asked, amused.

“Everyone’s in a relationship with someone,” he explained. “They’re just not all romantic.”

“How insightful,” she said, her voice lifting with joy.

“So,” he pressed, “what plans do you have that are more intriguing than talking to a devilishly handsome man on the other side of the payphone?”

“Wow, modest much?” she teased, laughing.

“Well,” he said, feigning seriousness, “it’s important to love yourself. But I’m sure plenty of people might disagree about me being devilishly handsome. Some might say I’m ruggedly handsome.”

She laughed. “Alright, Mr. Ruggedly Handsome. If you must know, I’ll be at the theater tonight.”

“A theatergoer?” he asked, intrigued.

“Quite frequently,” she said, pretending to sound more dignified. “And you? Do you attend the arts?”

“Why yes, my lady,” he replied, adopting an exaggerated posh tone. “When time permits, of course. Pray tell, what show has earned your favor this evening?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt to play along. “Have you heard of The Sandman’s Gift?”

“I have! All good things—from the story to the unbelievable cast. I hear it’s been sold out for ages.”

“Yes, well, that’s where I’ll be tonight,” she said. “It’s a shame you won’t get to see it. It could’ve been a topic of discussion if we talked again.”

“And how do you know I don’t already have tickets for tomorrow night’s show—or the next night’s?” he countered.

She hesitated. “Do you?”

“Now I have my secrets,” he said.

She laughed, and he joined in, their voices warm and easy, but the moment was interrupted by the familiar automated voice: “Please insert twenty-five cents to continue.”

“Allow me,” he said, dropping another quarter into the slot.

“How much did you bring?” she asked curiously.

“Excuse me?”

“How much money in quarters did you bring tonight? I’m curious.”

“Enough to buy this payphone if I wanted to,” he said with mock confidence.

She burst into laughter.

“What about you?” he asked.

“I brought just enough to last until I have to leave.”

He smiled, leaning against the booth. “Then we’d better make the most of it.”

The two talked for another twenty minutes before she had to say goodbye.

“Same time tomorrow?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, I can’t make it. I have a work event,” he said. “What about the day after?”

“That’s no good for me. I have a work event that day.”

“So… two days from now?” he suggested.

“Yes. Two days from now!” she said, just as the time ran out.

Two days later, at precisely seven in the evening, the payphone on Fifth rang once before it was answered.

“Right on time,” he said.

“It wouldn’t be very ladylike to keep my man of mystery waiting.”

“So,” he asked, “how was your work event last night?”

“It was fine,” she replied. “One of my coworkers took it upon herself to invite a friend to the event, thinking she could set me up with him.”

“Oh, and how did that go?” he asked, curiosity lacing his tone.

“It didn’t. He lacked manners, and I made it very clear I’m happy with my current situation.”

“Well,” he said with a laugh, “no one tried to set me up at my work event, but it wasn’t too bad overall.”

“Maybe one day I’ll introduce you to someone,” she teased.

“Oh yeah? I’ll have you know I’m very picky.”

“I bet.”

He laughed. “Well, fair is fair. If you do that for me, I’ll have to return the favor and introduce you to someone as well.”

“Well then you will see what being picky really looks like,” she quipped as they shared a laugh.

“I also want you to know,” he said, “that I went to the theater last night and saw the show.”

“You got tickets?” she asked, surprised.

“I did.”

“That’s impressive,” she said.

“Not as impressive as the show itself. I enjoyed it quite a bit. Did you?”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.”

Their conversation that night revolved around the show, an hour of animated discussion filled with shared excitement and appreciation for the performance. When it was time to say goodnight, they promised to pick up right where they left off.

The next evening, they talked for another hour, their words flowing easily, punctuated by laughter.

The following conversation turned to childhood—what it was like growing up, their favorite memories, and the quirks of their families.

The night after that, they dove into political views. Neither held particularly strong opinions, but they were amused to find they agreed on most things.

From politics, they moved to favorites—holidays, foods, books, and everything in between. Their lists sparked more questions, each answer peeling back another layer of mystery.

One night, they spent three hours sharing stories from their pasts: ex-lovers, failed careers, pivotal moments that had shaped who they were.

What started as a few conversations stretched into a week, then two, then three, and before long, a month had passed. They didn’t talk every night—life had a way of pulling them in different directions—but they made time for each other about four nights a week.

By the time two months had passed, they were talking like old friends, their conversations easy and familiar. Yet, despite how close they’d grown, they still didn’t know each other’s names, jobs, or any personal details. Their connection thrived in its anonymity, leaving them free to share without pretense or expectation, but that couldn’t last forever.

Almost three months later, unbeknownst to anyone, the payphone on Fifth rang for the last time.

“Right on time, as usual,” he said, answering the phone.

“I’m sorry to say this,” she began, her voice softer than usual, “but this might be our last payphone call.”

“Why?” he asked, the disappointment clear in his tone.

“I have a job opportunity that’s requiring me to relocate—for an unknown amount of time.”

“I see,” he said, his heart sinking.

“The conversations we’ve had these past months have been amazing,” she confessed. “Our unorthodox relationship has been more genuine than almost any other I’ve had in years.”

“I can honestly say I feel the same way,” he replied.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” she said with a smile in her voice. “So, I propose we cut our call short tonight.”

He hesitated, the words catching him off guard. “I’m sorry, but that was not the response I was hoping for.”

She laughed softly. “Let me finish. There’s a small coffee shop on Seventh. It’s almost directly between the two of us.”

He chuckled. “I tend to forget that you know exactly where I am.”

“Yes, but I would never sneak a peek at my mystery man without him knowing. That would ruin the spirit of our relationship.”

“Fair point,” he said. “So, about this coffee shop. I know two on Seventh. There’s Joe’s Cup of Joe and Life’s True Essence.”

“Oh, I forgot about Joe’s Cup of Joe! That’s a really lovely hole-in-the-wall place. Let’s make it Joe’s.”

“Alright,” he said, intrigued. “And?”

“I suggest we meet there,” she continued, her tone lightening. “I’ll be the girl in the red dress.”

“A red dress?” he asked, surprised. “Did you plan this and get dressed up?”

“Of course I did! Well, as of this morning when I heard I’d have to move. But you mentioned you wear a suit to work, and last night you said you had to work late, so I figured you’d still be wearing a suit and looking devilishly handsome.”

He laughed. “I am, indeed.”

“Perfect,” she said, her excitement palpable. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to meet the girl I promised months ago I’d introduce you to?”

“Well,” he said with a grin, “fortunately for you, I happen to be ready to introduce you to the gentleman I mentioned that same night.”

“Good,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

And with that, they hung up their payphones, each taking a deep breath as they stepped away, ready to turn their unorthodox relationship into something real.

He turned the corner onto Seventh and began walking toward Joe’s Cup of Joe. He’d only taken a few steps when he saw her—a woman in a red dress—round the corner ahead of him.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. They smiled, their connection as undeniable in person as it had been over the phone. Without a word, they walked toward each other, their steps quickening as they approached the coffee shop.

Though they had never met face-to-face, they knew each other instantly. He was the owner of several theaters across the country; she was a renowned theater actress—and the star of the last show he’d seen. At that moment, everything made sense. The reason why each had trouble knowing if the connection they made with the other was genuine or if someone just liked them for what they had to offer.

When they reached one another, he offered his arm, and she took it without hesitation. Together, they turned and entered the cozy little coffee shop, their laughter mingling as they stepped inside.

Three years later, the two strangers who met on a payphone were married. Seven years after that, payphones became obsolete, disappearing from street corners and fading into history—but for them, those old phones would always be the start of something extraordinary.