So there I was, knee-deep in salt and pondering the mysteries of the universe. Not the flaky kind you put on fries, mind you, but the kind that seems to laugh when you try to sweep it away. Ever tried dancing with salt? It's like Tango with the Tardigrade.
The other day, I found a note in the salt that said "Do not feed the tall ones." I looked up, and there they were. The tall ones, all legs and bad jokes about giraffes. They didn't even notice the warning, too busy Googling the nearest coffee shop.
I often wonder if the salt trails are messages or simply evidence of someone's desperate attempts to keep their lunch from flying away. Salt, much like time, has this uncanny ability to slip through our fingers, unless you have a good plan and a pinch of luck.