Static

A hiss interrupted Janice’s Christmas tunes, always. Not the usual radio static, no. She heard it over the mall intercom while watching shoppers stumble with gift bags weighing down one arm, a screaming toddler hanging off the other, men browsing women’s clothing stores here and jewelry shops there, all with the same baffled look on their faces. She heard it when she tried plugging her ears with headphones. She heard the noise then too, coating the holly, jolly music streaming in, noise like a slow unending sigh streaming from her iPod. She yanked out her plugs. People passed on by. Everyone was so oblivious, and none of them heard the hiss masked with holiday cheer.

Why should she hear it, Janice with her unadorned apartment, parents MIA, and nonexistent love life? Janice bought one lonely Christmas present for herself and placed it under her naked tree. She couldn’t wait to open it. She had been searching the mall for the perfect set. Finally, she’d come home with one, provided by one of the men in the jewelry store. They’d been a chore to wrap, the hue of the wrapping paper going from white to pink to red in a minute’s span. Still, they were wonderful ears.

Perhaps, when she put them on, the noise would go away.