It is strange: it is only a Voice, a beautiful, sonorous tide washing over you as you move through your day. And yet, much like the ocean you’ve never seen and are not entirely sure exists, and the Void overhead that most certainly exists, you know something strange lurks in the darkest corners of that Voice.

Strange things happen in this town, and you hear about them on the radio, The Voice reports it. And yet on the days you don’t hear that Voice, your day usually goes along fairly normally: no helicopters, no ravenous librarians, no strange creatures or occurrences or disappearances, none of the fare so regularly reported.

But those days you do not hear The Voice lead to the nights you cannot sleep, because you have not heard The Voice allow such a thing.

You did not let The Voice bid you goodnight.