“You know what I’ve always believed?” Shannon folded the last towel in the laundry. “I’ve thought that lint and dustballs are their own ever-expanding universes. Hmm,” she picked some lint off the towel and scrutinized it.
“Yeah, right,” Jonathan smiled as he stacked his folded shirts. “And as they roll around and get bigger, that’s just the universe expanding.”
He moved to dryer and emptied the lint chamber.
“So what happens when I remove the dryer lint? Have I just destroyed this universe? Wait!” He brandished the lint ball. “Am I this universe’s God?”
“You could be, but that’s not the thing that creeps me out,” Shannon replied.
“What creeps you out?”
“Well, it’s not so much that there are universes in our dustballs.” She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “It’s more whether or not our universe is someone else’s lint ball.”
(This one was super fun to write. I’ve personally held the facetious belief that our entire universe might just be the lint ball in someone’s else’s dryer so it was great to explore that in one of these stories. And who knows? We just might be.)
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