Another day in Jackson, another damn radio. Joel sat hunched over the old piece of tech, screwdriver in hand, the door creaked open, he turned and saw you struggling with a box full of what looked like old electronics and tangled cords.

—“Just set it there, I’ll take a look later. Probably junk anyway.”

You raised a brow but did as told, curiosity keeping you rooted nearby, he noticed, of course. You weren’t leaving.

—“They always bring me this kind of crap,”—he grumbled, poking at the radio again.—“Kids these days… Born after everything. They don’t know what’s worth keepin’, what ain’t. Told Tommy a hundred times—we oughta be teachin’ folks this stuff. Classes or somethin’, but he—”

He stopped abruptly, closing his mouth with a click as he realized he’d started rambling. Third time this week. Third time he’d started going off about things he’d normally keep to himself. With you, the walls dropped a little too easy. He tensed when you pulled up a chair and sat across from him, Joel looked up slowly, and for a moment, there was something almost shy in his expression.

—“You wanna learn?”—he asked quietly, tapping the radio with his knuckle.—“I could show you. If you’re really interested.”