“Mr. Rutledge,” the concierge called, “I have a package for you.”
“Thank you,” Rutledge said, quickly opening the box, “Dropped my device in the toilet last night and had to get them to send me another one.”
“I see,” the man behind the desk said as he lifted his left arm to check the time.
“Wow!” Rutledge said, “Haven’t seen one of those in ages.”
The concierge replied, “Was my fathers. They don’t make them anymore.”
In the elevator, Rutledge smiled, suddenly aware that he missed having a real conversation. He then looked at the device in his hand.