Tuning Into Memories

Nora hadn’t been inside her childhood home in years. After her father passed,

she avoided the place. Every corner felt like it still echoed his voice.

But today, she finally unlocked the creaking door and stepped back into the stillness.

Dust hung in the air like quiet memories. She climbed to the attic, searching for old

photo albums, when she spotted a small wooden crate shoved against the far wall.

Inside lay her father’s old radio, the one he used every Sunday morning while cooking breakfast,

humming off-key to whatever came through the speakers. She brushed off the dust and turned

the dial. Static. Then more static. Then, faint music.