september 30, 1998.

you anxiously fidget with an old radio, keeping yourself locked in a bathroom stall in an abandoned school. all you hear as you turn the knob is static, but then as you turn it just right, you hear a man’s voice. he sounds young. he’s cursing under his breath.

“hello?” you say into the radio, which makes him pause his ramblings. tentatively, he responds.

“h-hello? uhh, this is kennedy- over.”