Blunt

Radio Voices

Click, clack.

Billboards lit up. The sunset didn't seem so lonely anymore.

Zip, zap.

Moving images blinked onscreen. Parachutes, luxurious cars, branded wine. Passerby slowed down to watch.

Tick, tack.

Radios were turned on. Several attempts in one purpose, all to get a clear connection to a certain station.

Thud, thud.

"...And that was our cue to begin the evening. Good evening, citizens of New-Big Apple-York!"

Babies giggled, adults listened passionately. The voice was neither of a man or a woman; it was just that, a voice.

"Today we will do our usual routine of playing songs and telling stories about, well, life in general."

The people could imagine the small smile, the faint chuckle which escaped from the voice at the end of the sentence.

"I will start as always. Today, a friend of mine asked me. 'What do you do for living?' And I answered, 'None.' He looked surprised, and gave me a sympathetic smile, and I knew that he thought I was jobless. I quickly corrected him, 'I don't work for a living. I live for me to work, and it's a work I love, which doesn't even count as a work.' "

Elderly people smiled in acknowledgement, understanding what the voice had meant. Younger ones, especially salaryman, had their ears perked up.

"He was a musician and he composes songs for movies. He couldn't really understand my answer, so I had to explain."

Another imaginary sincere laugh.

"Do you all want me to explain?"

Several hoots and cheers erupted, while some only nodded in anticipation. There was this energy flow, this charm that binds people to the voice. It was irresistible.

"So what I meant is, I don't work to get the payment, or salary, or whatever. I work because I want to do something meaningful. The money is just a bonus part for me. My friend nodded after he listened to me, and I asked, 'do you love your job?'

And he nodded, but added, 'I love it, but there are times when the job itself is annoying.' Now, this is probably the most common thing in our society. Love is associated with the word enjoyment, happiness."

Several heads nodded again.

"But there's an O in both love and obstacle. In love, there are obstacles. Your love isn't complete without it."

Apparently, the words struck right into the hearts of some women. They looked troubled before, brow creased deep, a frown adorning their face; and then their worry melted, replaced by regrets and sadness. Love sick, or family matter, the details wasn't important. People knew the power of the voice.

"Enough of me. Here I have the first letter, signed by E.illen and accompanied with a song request. Truth Hurts by Amy McKillen, a classic choice of a love song. Great choice, Eillen."

The soft piano notes played in the distant, each melody dragged long and sound. The intro was a mind nagging runs of 'hmm' which made the song one of the most unforgettable song, filling up prom nights venues back in the 60's.

"I'll start reading now. 'I listened to you everyday and was touched, so I had to write this letter.

For almost a year now I've been trying to balance myself between painting and taking astronomy classes. I both want to capture the beauty of space with my hands and my eyes. But I seem to be failing my classes; and lately, my paintings quality has dropped. I think I should focus on one thing only, but I can't choose. What should I do?' Well Eillen, isn't this an extraterrestrial question."