I used to think I was a radio, picking up interstellar frequencies, mouthing through staticky grilles the words of a hundred wisecracking jockeys jacked up on coffee and the injustice of the morning commute.
But then, I heard a scritch scrape skein of noise, the words are all jumbled, aside from the vague, misty tang of cynicism and judgment on the radio waves. There is nothing here but the slipping, sterling buzz of something crackling behind the surface,
peaceful in its furor, breaking through the daily buzz in fits and starts, sneaking in between the dial’s impeccably spaced bites of prattle, bequeathing the gentlest edge of sense even in the silence after the noise has passed. Shattering the sound to bring to light something as simple as the taste of hazelnut in my tea
Keerthana Krosuri is a sophomore at The College of New Jersey. She is a Biology major and Creative Writing minor, and she plans on going to medical school after college.