Tuning the Static

A curious hum drew me across the oak sideboard, where a splendidly neglected transistor radio sat half-buried beneath the morning mail. With a measured tap of my staff against its ribbed tuning dial, the silence shattered—reborn as a glorious burst of hissing static! A few delicate nudges brought forth the muffled, jaunty trumpet of a distant jazz band. While modern broadcast fidelity hardly compares to the golden era, that erratic crackle between frequencies is nothing short of pure theater. Naturally, I left the dial right on the static.