Verity Earl
Stories (1/0)
Illimitable
It started pretty small. Little things, like I’d have a thought. Let’s say, ice cream. I’d think about ice cream on my way to work in the morning. Innocuous enough, no? Yet I’d walk into the break room at lunch and lo! Free ice cream was being doled out by a rather uncharacteristically jolly boss, apparently doing his best impression of a cartoon chef. (He was wearing kitchen gloves that matched the yellow of his plaid shirt, which stretched precariously over his protruding belly.) Or how about a scarf. The weather was unseasonably cold one February morning, and I thought, gosh, I could really use a scarf. That day a friend came over with an extra one she’d cleverly procured with a buy-one-get-one deal. Fortuitous! And then there was my favorite, the toilet brush. The toilet brush head broke off in the toilet one Saturday (causing me to swear loudly and spend the next few moments in utter wonder: was this even possible?), and the next day, sneakily hidden behind a stack of suspiciously aged potatoes, I found a shiny new one in my basement, completely wrapped in plastic. I have no recollection of every buying said brush.
By Verity Earl3 years ago in Futurism