Sitting there, behind the expired milk carton and a wilting head of lettuce (purchased for a salad still unmade), the plastic bottle waits. Its screw-top lid atop seems to cry out, “Take me off! Open me up!”
He stands in front of the fridge, watching as the blinking yellow-white light at the back casts its hypnotic spell. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. He doesn’t remember reaching inside. He doesn’t recall when he twisted that cap off. All he knows is that the liquid--black, but smooth—now fills his mouth. It rushes down into his stomach. Soon the change will come.