In the heart of an old radio, where dust settled like forgotten dreams, there lay an echo. It was a quiet story, buried among the static hiss and crackle, yearning to be heard. As the ancient device flickered to life one last time, it began weaving a tale—a narrative thread spun from the webs of signal noise.
Once, in a world intertwined with whispers and invisible cables, there was a line—a lifeline—that connected souls through frequencies and waves. They spoke in glowing lights, conversed in silences punctuated by soft, sweet static. Among these connections was a thread so delicate, it seemed to hum with a whispering wind, carrying secrets across miles.
Over time, the line grew faint, worn by the passage of time and the encroaching void. Voices once lively became distant echoes, murmurs in the ether, fading to a hushed presence. One final message pulsed through, a silent scream of longing wrapped in the arms of static—a plea for remembrance in a world now asleep.