The Mystery of the Missing Phone 😭📱

I have always believed that I am an observant person.I notice small things. I remember random conversations. I can recognise someone’s footsteps from another room. I can even tell when someone has eaten the last biscuit in the house without asking.Yesterday, however, I discovered that my detective abilities have serious limitations.
It started when I suddenly realised that my phone was missing.I immediately panicked.I checked my bed.Nothing.Under my pillow.
Nothing.Inside my blanket.Nothing.I checked my bag three times, even though I knew perfectly well that I had already checked it twice.
Still nothing.At this point, I decided this was no longer a simple case of losing my phone.This was a crime.Someone had taken it.My first suspect was my younger brother.I walked into his room and stared at him suspiciously.He looked confused.“Why are you looking at me like that?”“My phone is missing.”“So?”“You tell me.”He stared at me for a few seconds.
“Why would I steal your phone?”“I don’t know. You look suspicious.”He rolled his eyes and went back to whatever he was doing.I returned to my investigation.I searched the kitchen.
Nothing.The living room.Nothing.The dining table.Nothing.I even checked the refrigerator.I have absolutely no explanation for that decision.
Maybe I thought the phone had become cold and wanted some privacy.I started reconstructing my entire day.I remembered using my phone in my room.
Then I remembered going to the kitchen.Then I remembered sitting on the sofa.Then I remembered walking back to my room.I was basically recreating CCTV footage inside my head.
Unfortunately, my brain had terrible recording quality.Then I had an idea.I would simply call my phone.I borrowed my mother’s phone and dialled my number.
A ringing sound immediately filled the room.I froze.The phone was nearby.My detective instincts activated.
I followed the sound.One step.Two steps.Three steps.The ringing became louder.I looked around dramatically.
Then I looked down.My phone was in my hand.I had been holding it the entire time.I don’t mean that I had picked it up while searching.
I mean I had been holding it for several minutes.I had literally searched the entire house while carrying the missing phone.
For a few seconds, I just stared at it.My mother looked at me.I looked at her.She looked at the phone.Then she asked, “Did you find it?”
“Yes.”“Where was it?”I looked at the phone again.“In a very secure location.”She shook her head and walked away.My brother somehow found out and laughed for the next ten minutes.
I tried defending myself.I said I had been tired.Nobody accepted this explanation.Honestly, I don’t blame them.I had successfully investigated an entire household, accused an innocent person, checked the refrigerator, reconstructed my movements, and called the police department of my own brain.
The criminal?Me.The victim?Also me.The detective?Clearly unemployed.