I hit play. Heard that old familiar hum of a tape cassette firing up and have to admit it gave a little ease to my soul.

I felt that lotion on my soul dry up as soon as I heard the voice on the answering machine. It belonged to my elderly father.

“You have to get out. You have to get out now. Now. You are not safe.”

The tape stopped. I was breathless.

Until I played it again.

I paid attention to the words the robotic, female voice of the answering machine said before my dead father’s voice scratched out the speakers this time.

“Message received, October 25, 2016.”

I hit pause. Hit rewind. Played it again. Heard the same thing.

What the flying fuck? That date was two weeks ago. My father died more than a year before that date.

My brain searched for answers. The machine was probably just wonky. Maybe someone turned it on two weeks ago and then it got the message and that’s why it was on there.