Page 1 of Follow My Voice
Prologue
HIS VOICE.
It wasn’t his eyes or his looks that got me; it was his voice: delicate, soft, but at the same time confident and masculine. I never imagined I could be so fascinated by someone based solely on the sound of their voice, without an idea as to what they look like. But he was the only person I’ve allowed inside the four walls of my room, which I guess created the perfect storm.
My name is Klara. I’m a nineteen-year-old girl who, for the past eight months, has been unable to leave the house for more than fifteen minutes. Faithful listener of the radio showFollow My Voice.
1Listen to Me
I’M MESMERIZED BYthe sound of the popcorn popping in the microwave and the smell that floods the kitchen.Mmm, delicious, I think, smiling as I pour Coke into a glass. This is the event I wait for all day, the one thing I look forward to in all the hours I spend inside this house. I take the popcorn out of the microwave, pick up the glass with my other hand, and move down the hall to my bedroom, walking on air. It’s silly how much I cherish this moment; we often learn to appreciate the little things in life after being on the verge of losing it all.
I sit on the bed, place the popcorn on the nightstand, and put on my headphones. They’re purple—my favorite color—and big, covering my ears entirely, and they tend to pinch my head. Even so, I don’t want to get new ones; they were a gift from my mother and hold sentimental value for me. I open the radio app on my phone and find the usual station. I shove a handful of popcorn in my mouth, checking the time: My favorite show is about to start. The host of the six o’clock hour signs off energetically, and they go to commercials before the seven o’clock show begins.
Then the moment arrives. I hear his voice, and my heart races.“Good evening, folks,” says that voice I love so much, the voice that has been with me through so many hard times. “Thank you for tuning in tonight. Without further ado, I welcome you to tonight’s evening show:Follow My Voice. I’m Kang, your friend and companion for this hour.”
Kang.
The first time I heard him, it was by chance: I was in the living room, bored, playingCandy Crushon my phone, and my sister, being old-school, had left the radio on some random college station. Kang’s show began and, when I heard his voice—so smooth and comforting—the way he spoke, his comments on the different topics, and the songs he’d chosen, I was instantly captivated. As I listened to him, I got to know him, and I learned that we share the same passion for pastries, poetry, and music. He’s even mentioned my favorite bakery in the city several times. He’s very smart; I can tell by the way he talks, with the confidence of someone completely secure in their knowledge.
I have no idea what he looks like, and I have no intention of finding out. I like the platonic feelings I have for him, far removed from any romantic sentiment. I don’t want anything more than that—it would only complicate things and that’s not a luxury I can afford at the moment.
“Tonight we have a beautiful full moon, have you seen it? If you’re at home, I want you to look out your window right now; if you’re driving, please keep your eyes on the road, you can see it later.”
I get up and walk to my window; he’s right, as always. The moon hangs clear and luminous in the night sky.
“Nights like this make me think about the infinite perfection of the universe.”
I can’t take my eyes off the moon.
“We’re merely tiny specks in this gigantic galaxy of ours, yet, even so, there are days when we feel like everything revolvesaround us. We humans can be very self-centered. But we are also capable of amazing things. I suppose, like with everything, we have our good and our bad.”
I place my hand on the window and outline the shape of the full moon with my index finger, a perfect circle. I wish I was the moon, not a person living in this defective shell of a body that struggles to survive every day.
“I’m going to start with a song I like a lot, by a local band. I hope you like it.” A slow, melancholic tune begins to play:
I just need a minute to process all these
feelings.
You are silence,
my calm in this storm,
the cure to this pain that I feel.
Please, don’t go;
please, don’t go.
I’m all out of words, the silence hurts,
your glances burn
and I blaze with feelings.
Feelings…
Feelings for… you…
