Leo looked at the "FREE" sticker, still bright and fresh. "But you gave it to me yesterday."

Leo walked back to his car, the silent speaker heavy in his hand. He never got it to turn on again, but every time he passed aisle four, he could almost hear the faint, ghostly echo of a blues guitar calling from between the refrigerators.

In the fluorescent hum of Best Buy aisle four, Leo found it: a small, unassuming Insignia Bluetooth speaker with a neon-orange "FREE" sticker slapped haphazardly across the box.

"Fine," Leo muttered, dropping into his chair. "Play whatever you want."

The next morning, the speaker was silent. No matter how many times Leo pressed the power button or checked the cables, it remained a paperweight. He took it back to Best Buy, hoping for a replacement.

The same employee was there. He looked at the box, then at Leo. "Man, we haven't given those out in years. Insignia discontinued that model in 2019."

But the speaker had a quirk. It refused to play anything Leo actually chose. If he picked heavy metal, it pivoted to smooth jazz. If he tried a podcast, it blasted 90s Euro-dance.

The speaker settled into a low, soulful blues track he’d never heard before. As the guitar wailed, Leo found himself actually listening . He stopped scrolling through his phone. He stopped worrying about his mounting emails. For the first time in months, he just sat in the dark, caught in the rhythm of a free gift that seemed to know his mood better than he did.