permission to shine

Odd Paul opens a can of creaming soda. It’s the original kind. And boy is it creaming.

Odd Paul places the can on the side table he fashioned from a poorly varnished slice of tree.

Odd Paul picks up his smart device and scrolls.

Odd Paul steps back through time, but not by reading old chats and reminiscing. He stands, lunges his right leg backward, his heel briefly collects the couch behind him, then bursts through it.

When he gets to old times, Odd Paul fascinates people, for they’ve never smelled creaming soda breath.

And also because he materialised from another age.