From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Sound
The static on my boombox finally cuts out just as Bill Medley hits those high notes, drowning out my dad’s grumbling about the dollar’s value or whatever's in the paper. I’m leaning against the wood paneling, trying to block out the rhythmic *clack-scrape* of my little brother playing Jenga on the coffee table. Every time one of those blocks slides out, the wood-on-wood screech sets my teeth on edge, but then the whole tower crashes down with a satisfying thunder. Word, that sound is almost as loud as the traffic humming outside my window.