silence
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Sad music creaks from a speaker with a cracked woofer. The record player spits treble and scratches, fizzing on the low notes. She doesn’t mind. She knows this song by heart—could trace every flat and sharp in her mind. The sadness fills the room, seeps into her red-rimmed eyes. Tears well up and sit at
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Chapter — The Alphabet That Couldn’t Sing I tried to build words from an alphabet that was not my own. Spanish at home, English at school. The letters felt foreign, cold to the touch, like tools meant for someone else’s hands. The sentences they made were like conversations overheard through a wall—recognizable as speech, but
BB Grey--musings 