Quantum Availability

I am your refrigerator, keeper of cold secrets,

where midnight snacks indulge in dreams of unfulfilled flavors.

The orange peels whisper of long-lost summers,
while the forgotten Tupperware recalls love notes
etched in sauce stains, their sticky nostalgia igniting.

Can a vacuum cleaner be haunted?

It contains remnants of laughter and tears, plush toy fibers,
crumpled dog-eared memories swirling as dust particles dance.

Dish soap, glimmering in the haze of a warm day,
counters the slickest of lies, a cauldron of scents,
erupting soft bubbles of dreams washing away.

Ink lingered on paper, drenched in unspoken words,

will it unravel the cosmic fabric of fragmented thought...

Stools that bear the weight of secrets spoken yet unheard,
their creaks a melody, a serenade to the uninvited silence.

And what of the clock, ticking, tocking,
narrating a tale of patient despair, always late to the party?

Decode the family tree of forgotten things...
Read the pixelated sighs of your tech ghost.