Donald Duck’s nephew did not beat Truman but he was good with decimals

Removing my last, I'm four rooms in sync. Dropping off two, I listen, don't think. Right in between, I do the last line. And without the first, I'm where you reside. I predate the kitchen, with humans I've grown. And though I am ancient, still found in the home.

The part of a contract no one reads or what a tiny kitten makes

I'm the language of secrets one opts to share Spoken not with the voice, but a breath of air Or a similar sound, sibilant sans speech Like breeze through trees or hissing waves at the beach

I visit your wallet when luck has run dry, I split sturdy friendships and promises awry. I shout from old radios when headlines erupt, I hide in the silence when patterns disrupt. You fear me in rules, crave me in news, Repairing or sharing, it’s me that you use.