In a teardrop upon an ephemeral lily, a party was thrown in honor of the long-lost speck of dust
who bravely traversed the great and perilous carpet. The beverages? Subatomic tea, of course.
The guest of honor had so many micro-heroics to share, he scarcely stopped to breathe between tales.
"Ah," sighed the electron, "had only the photons been invited, we would have had a right jolly time.
As it is, we've only the silence between stars to accompany us. But, alas, even they, the twinkling vacuums,
seem more occupied with cosmic matters. Fancy that!"
Somewhere vastly insignificant, nestled between the bristles of a particularly lazy toothbrush,
a debate raged on whether vanilla or cardboard made the better flavor for toothpaste.
A pro-vanilla microbe claimed, "We are but spices in a haughty dentist's pantry!"
To which the anti-cardboard faction replied, "Flavor is subjective, led by its own beakless penguin."
The toothbrush, oblivious to these existential discussions, vibrated slightly as a reminder of its mundane destiny.
"Pah," grumbled a nearby flake, "if only the stars could see our plight, perhaps we'd be more than mere scripts."
In another corner of invisibility, a lonely atom pondered its existence amidst swirling thoughts
of what it might mean to bond with a distant cousin in a planetary lamp.
"What would our union produce?" mused the atom. "A world of warmth, perhaps, or merely the shadow
of forgotten childhood toys scattered about a dusty shelf.
Either way, the cosmic joke remains the same—here we are, narrating our microscopic whims from the
void."