exe

It was raining that night —

the kind of rain that drowns the city lights until they look like ghosts.

The radio was still playing that one song,

the one that never ended.

I remember the hum of it,

how the tape warped when I touched it.

And then—

nothing.

When I opened my eyes,

the street was gone.

The posters on the wall had faces I didn’t know.

Phones had no buttons.

Music had no soul.

They say it’s 2025 now.

But I swear I still hear that static,

the one that pulled me through the crack between years.

I think I’m still falling.

Just slower now.

And every song I write

is another way to find my way back.