And somewhere, in a frequency no adult could find, the next song began—just one note, just a question mark, just a beginning pretending to be an echo.
“Complete what?”
The note held.
They sat in silence. The streetlight flickered—not broken, just indecisive. Artie, the strongest man in the world, was nowhere to be seen. Dad was inside, losing another argument with the garage door. Mom was polishing her collection of decorative thimbles. pete and pete complete
“Now we wait for the next incomplete thing.” And somewhere, in a frequency no adult could