By Jenny Wong -
The radio station doesn't exist anymore.
But tonight, like every night, just before ten, she prepares a cup of chamomile tea, then eases her old bones into a chair by the window. Outside, the sun has gone down, and the world narrows enough to fit beneath a streetlamp’s gaze. With the click-twist of a brushed silver dial, she turns the radio on. For a moment, she is six again, curled up in bed, pigtails and skinned knees, listening to her dad’s deep disc jockey voice live on the air.
the static kicks in.
Jenny Wong is a writer, traveler, and occasional business analyst. Her favorite places to wander are Tokyo alleys, Singapore hawker centers, and Parisian cemeteries. Recent publications include Acropolis Journal, Five Minutes, and Tiny Molecules. She resides in Canada near the Rocky Mountains and tweets @jenwithwords.