Bad call.

It stole your voice.
Hid it under a carpet.
I would have dived into the tufty, old rolls and put it back, but it wouldn't let me. 
There was something in the way that looked like me. 
Skin coloured squares peering angrily at each other and noises bouncing off uncarpeted floors.
Wait where's the carpet?
Where's the internet?
I haven't seen it. 
I can't hear you. 

I can't (be) here. You?