Somewhere in the Static

After the door to the attic closed, life quietly moved on.
Hawkins survived.
They didn't. Not in the same way.
A year later, some of them stayed. Some of them left.
Phone calls grew shorter. Letters stopped coming.
And memories became the only thing they all shared.
Songs on the radio still sounded like childhood.
Static still felt like unfinished sentences.
And sometimes, late at night, it felt like something or someone
was still out there.
Somewhere in the static.