He stared down in confusion at the oblong block in his hand and the numbers arranged in a grid. He knew it was important; that he was waiting for it do something. But its use seemed tantalisingly out of reach. Like a balloon on the end of a string. Increasingly he felt oddly absent, aware that his thoughts and memories could drift in and out of focus. Sometimes he wondered if it would be better to be immersed in full dementia than to exist in a half-light? The phone started to play a tune. He smiled as cognizance returned. ‘Hello?’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.