Tomorrow’s Voicemail

“I was cleaning out my dad’s old phone after he passed away. One last voicemail

was saved. It was dated… tomorrow.” I played it. His voice said, “Hey kiddo.

If you’re hearing this, it means I didn’t make it. I just wanted you

to know—I was never disappointed in you. Not once.” I froze.

Because my dad had never said that out loud. Then the voicemail continued.

“Also, check the kitchen drawer. The one you always forget.”

I ran to the drawer. Inside was a note with my handwriting. It said: “Leave this phone

behind. They’re not ready yet.” And that’s when I realized…