I was messing around with an old radio I found at a garage sale. It barely worked, but I liked the static, the way old things held onto their secrets.

One night, I picked up something strange—muffled voices, barely there. Then a clear message: “Don’t go to work tomorrow.”

I laughed it off. But the next morning, my bus route was in the news—an accident. Several injured. If I had taken my usual commute, I would’ve been on that bus.

I turned the radio back on, heart pounding. This time, the message was different. “You’re listening now. Good.”