Danielle stood in front of the radio, listening.
It was silent.
There was nothing wrong with it, it should have worked. She had fiddled with it herself, then taken it to a skilled radio repair shop. There was nothing wrong with it.
But now, sitting in her apartment, the radio wouldn’t work.
She wondered, for a time, if it was something to do with her apartment. Maybe something was somehow blocking the radio signals. But after testing a number of other radios, everything seemed to work fine. Just this one wouldn’t. This one which was, of course, her favourite radio. Her radio that, in every other apartment, gave crystal clear reception, beautiful sound, a perfect little device to keep her entertained.
As she listened now, though, it was quiet, despite the volume being all the way up, and what she could hear was static. A gentle hiss. She leaned in close, and heard the hiss, and murmuring. Either a distant radio host, or perhaps the neighbour on a cordless phone. She couldn’t be sure.
Finally, in frustration, Danielle reached back and hit the radio with the flat of her palm. It buzzed, something caught, and suddenly her apartment was booming with noise, Neil Young’s Heart of Gold.
She considered turning it down, but decided against it, opting instead to dance. It didn’t matter what was wrong. It was fixed.