I decided to time-travel to seven-and-a-half years into the future. The amount of time was a feeling on my part. Time-travel is not something you bring exactness into. Time is hazy, creamy and diluted. You got to go with your gut.

I was catapulted into the Sebastopol, California of January 3, 2027. My home was gone. In its place was a small box. I opened the box. Within was a frog. The frog said, “Yeah, what?” I asked what happened to my home. The frog said, “I don’t know. And would you please close back the lid of the box, I prefer privacy.”

I closed the box. I looked around. All the homes in my neighborhood were gone, in their place were similar looking boxes. The air had a green mist that smelled like limes.

The street was no longer asphalt, but was covered with what looked like whipped butter. I stuck a finger in and took a taste. It was the said butter. I took off my shoes and walked in the creamy substance. It was warm and soft due to the strong mid-day sun.

I walked till I got to the end of the street. The perpendicular street was filled with people that appeared to be standing in a stagnant line. I asked a person what they were standing in line for. The person said, “I’m not standing in line. This is where I live.” I said I was confused due to time-travel. The person said, “It’s a long story, but frogs have taken over.”

I walked back in the butter street to my time-machine, got in, and came back to today.

I sat on the couch in my home and looked out the window. I noticed a whip-poor-will on the birch tree branch. The bird looked at me. I looked back. I thought that we must be having a supernatural moment of connection. But then I realized that the bird was staring at its own reflection.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.