The Faded Frequency
The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, grey curtain that turned the world outside my window into a watercolor sketch of itself. I sat at the kitchen table, the wood worn smooth by decades of elbows and elbows, and held the small, brass-colored radio in my hands. It was cold to the touch, heavier than it looked, its dials sticky with the dampness of the air. It was the only thing I...
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