The Soda Bottle

“Soda bottle, soda bottle.”

My brain wrapped itself around the first object in sight and clung to it intensely.

“What makes it bubble like that?”

I tried to picture myself as one of the tiny, carbonated bubbles, floating to the precipice, part of a collective, not alone – just going on my predestined course.

If someone were to shake the bottle up, I would have thousands of new friends.

If I were left out unsheltered, they would all be gone.