The Wistful Silence
The radio crackled, a sound like static eating its own tail, and I stared at the needle on the gauge until my eyes burned. It was pinned to the red line. That was the first wrong thing. In the old manuals, the ones with the yellowed pages and the coffee stains, the needle was supposed to drift. It was supposed to breathe. But this new unit, this sleek, black thing they had installed in the cab...
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