The Faded Frequency
The static was not merely a sound to me, but a physical pressure, a wall of white noise that pressed against the inside of my skull with the insistence of a tide against a seawall, and I had spent the last forty-eight hours trying to find the source of that intrusion, a signal that did not exist on any frequency chart, a voice that spoke in the cadence of my own dead father, which was why I was...
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