Two Anachronisms

There I was, navigating the nearly abandoned thoroughfares of an all but forgotten mercantile center. 

This derelict temple dedicated to American Consumerism had been reduced to a sparse handful of retailers struggling to keep the crumbling edifice alive.  My footfalls echoed off of hard tiles that had been polished to a near mirror sheen by the endless laps of elderly walkers shuffling along like zombies and futile attempts to stave off their own deaths. Window frames filled with dusty glass provided hazy views into the vacant emporiums as I strode by.  A lone bird that had somehow been trapped inside fluttered past - the only other living thing I had seen since entering the ruin.

I rounded a corner in the plaza and saw it off in the distance - bolted to the wall, an atavistic feature even in this relic of a shopping center - a pay phone. This anachronistic bygone had been forced into obscurity by its evolutionary descendants and nearly legislated out of existence by crime-fearing politicians during the War on Drugs. I wondered if it still worked but I dared not touch it. I did not wish to disturb the bones of the dead.