The Static and the Stars

Dust settles on the wooden cabinet, where glowing tubes warm the cold air of a room that has forgotten voices. I turn the dial, a slow rotation through the hissing spaces between stations.

A sudden burst of static breaks the quiet, like distant oceans washing over sand, followed by a fragmented melody— some forgotten song adrift in the atmosphere, clinging to the edges of the night.

It fades back into the low hum, a ghost retreating into the machinery. I sit in the dark, bathed in amber light, listening to the silent universe whisper its secrets through copper wire.