The Morning After My Son’s Funeral, an Airport Worker Called and Said, “Your Son Checked In”

whole recording twice, all the way through, with a legal pad and a pen.

It ran nineteen minutes.

The first thing I noticed on the second pass was the room tone. Not the words. The sound underneath the words.

The refrigerator in my kitchen has a compressor that kicks on with a small mechanical shudder, then settles into a hum with a slight wobble in it,continue reading …