Signal 408:030921
"It's been a decade, give or take a week," she whispered into the void that once belonged to her husband, a gray old radio cracked open by age and longing.
"He always said frequency was life... I thought maybe I’d hear him again. No luck, just static. Sometimes, I think I hear his laugh somewhere in the background."

Those words ricocheted through the air untouched as the steady hum of time continued its dance. The number converged, a cliff, an edge, a break... else a bridge.
Time deeply carved a line between existence and the ephemeral moments we collect. As relics of now cease to serve, they become artifacts of tomorrow.