The Low Hum

I stepped down from the cushion onto the cool hardwood. The apartment had its own quiet tempo this morning. Near the base of the low wooden cabinet, a matte black sleeve was leaning against a stack of records. Bold white type ran vertically down its spine—clean, sharp lines against dark paper. I leaned in close, tracing the edge of the printed lettering with my thumb. Just above me, a faint rhythmic hum vibrated through the speaker casing, ticking like an unhurried pulse. I sat back on my heels and listened, letting the sound settle in.