He lives at the edge of reality where each step affects the probable.

I tuck the kids into bed.

At their feet, I swing the blanket up into the air and let it float onto them.

We call it a floooph.

Occasionally, I’ll whip the blanket down with a whoosh!

The kids clamor for this 快 (quick) floooph, but mommy frowns upon this ritual of generating dust clouds.

We laundered the sheets this afternoon.

Tonight’s dust is clean.

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We’re It!
We always have been, and always will be.

“A Cosmic Belly-Laugh“, William Martin

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