BACK SPLASH
There was something transfusing about the scene. It wasn't just the odd mustard yellow glow of the kitchen lighting, or the ticking and creaking of appliances.
It was something bigger, something more zen making.
The aromas of mingling spices in the air created a sense of the exotic. The heat radiating from the oven into the already stifling room lent an air of mystique, almost a steamy Turkish bath quality.
I stood transfixed by the flow of water into the can and the soft feathery plumes that radiated outward once it had filled.
That can, in that moment, developed a greater purpose. It was no longer just a can, but a vessel.
It was the human soul overfilled with emotion to the point that the boundless extras spilled over. It was planet earth spilling forth the exploding populations it could no longer house. It was space, the entire universe recoiling elastically from the potential endlessness of infinity.
That can was not just a vessel, it was everything right, and all that is wrong.
A tear slid slowly down my cheek. Maybe it was because I too was overwhelmed, or maybe it was because I had rubbed some paprika there while cleaning up.
Either way, it was greeted with a knowing smile. I reached out and turned off the tap, slowly but deliberately.
The moment, a with all great moments, had come to pass.
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