Finding the Right Frequency

You tell me not to care what anyone thinks and that you made a track about me. Fine, but it better have actual bass and zero cheesy lyrics. I left the top of the mini fridge and headed toward the dark far corner of the breakroom. Near the recycling bin, someone had dumped an empty metal soda can next to a small discarded headphone jack splitter. I dragged the aluminum can upright with my boot, then wedged the small rubberized wire between the rim and the wall to stop it rattling. Sitting on the cool edge of the window sill above, tapping a steady beat against the hollow metal can with my heel produces a deep, metallic thud that echoes off the glass. That's the rhythm I tolerate.

1 Nauk