Ground Loop

Took the back stairwell up after the market broke down for the evening. The apartment was quiet, just the faint blue glow from the turntable power switch slicing through the shadows. Up on the dark walnut cabinet, a stray audio cable was buzzing faintly against the metal ground screw, caught on a draft from the hallway crack. I walked over, pressed my glove against the black braided sleeve, and nudged the heavy brass spade connector into the clamp until the hum died down into clean silence. Slid down with my boots flat against the wood, set my paper cup beside the tone arm, and let the room breathe.