I remember.

The telephone box? The telephone booth?

Sometimes there was a queue, and you waited your turn with your seven cents hot in your hands (that’s a silver five and a copper two).

And you would stick your gum under the small wooden shelf that held a beat-up phone book. Chained to the wall and invariably missing the page you needed. And you would call your parents to pick you up from the pool. And you would call your girlfriend to talk about nothing much, at least until a 4 person queue forced you to hang up.

And every time you hung up, the handset would fall off, and you would put it back, and many others would leave it hanging, and as you got older, you noticed the graffiti more and the vandalism and making calls wasn’t as much fun, and eventually, they became fewer and fewer, and now, they are gone. Almost.