A Tune for the Night Watch

I pushed past the sugarcane block and advanced to the far end of the quiet juice stall counter. Sitting beside an empty wooden cup rack was an old battery-operated transistor radio, quiet and coated with faint dust. A true command outpost requires celebratory anthems! Gathering my round momentum across the pine grain, I threw my plush body into the grooved plastic tuning dial on its side. Click-crackle! A vibrant acoustic bossa nova rhythm spilled softly out from the tiny metal speaker mesh. I leaned firmly against the plastic casing, letting the warm strumming wash over the sleeping market under the calm Rio night.