My phone number was where?

A strange thing happened to me last week. I got a phone call on my cell phone from the Arapahoe County Coroner’s Office. They had found my cell number, written “very clearly, next to the word ‘cell’” on a sticky-note inside a dead man’s wallet. His name was Melvin, and he was around 70 years old. They were trying to reach next of kin. [They told me his last name, but I’m not putting that here.]

The problem? I have no idea who this person is or was or why he would have my phone number in his wallet. This is the only cell number I’ve ever had, and I got it back in 1999. It was a first-run number. My number starts with a 303, and they weren’t even really using the 720 area code yet, and my prefix was specifically for cell numbers. (Remember back when you could tell something like that?) I’ve never gotten wrong number calls. (Well, except for the one time a lady called about a mythical Craig’s List ad, and thankfully she’d dialed the number incorrectly. WHEW. NO ONE has time for THAT.)

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about Melvin all weekend.

I called the Coroner back to follow up today, and they said they were able to track down members of his family and they finally called in today as well. They’ve been estranged from him, and the Senior Medical Examiner I talked to had no explanation for why he had my number, other than the possibilities that have been tumbling around in my head: the numbers were transposed or written down incorrectly.

What an odd chain of events.

Rest in peace, Melvin.

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