Lake Lewisia #916

[scrubjayspeaks]

The room, which the club called the Message Center, had been filled with phones: old rotaries with avocado plastic bodies, gold-plated antiques with fine ivory handles coveted by the Historical Society, cheap cordless units with stubby antennas on the handset. Each one had a short tail of wiring coming off it somewhere and leading nowhere, the ends frayed. Even so, phones regularly rang, and members took turns being on-call to run from one side of the room to another, tracking down which one had activated and answering in time to receive whatever message came through.

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LL#916