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The Vending Machine
I shove the thin coins into the machine. It lights up as I tap the buttons staring at me. Then, I stand there waiting, waiting, and waiting. My throat clenches and my legs shift forward for lack of patience. The claws in the contraption move up and down until it reaches its destination. It juts out and grabs hold. Firmly grasping the victim, the metallic claw heads down to the basin of blackness. A crash vibrates its inner walls as the object is released. The machine lights up again as if nothing had happened. I bend down and open up the basin. I find the cylindrical object laying there, rolling around. I carefully grab it and flip up the silver tab blocking off all the goodness inside. I tilt back my head as the bubbly sensation clings to my throat. A sugary residue is left on my tongue. The desert becomes a jungle. The sun becomes the moon. In that moment, it is done. I walk away and the fizzling sounds follows.
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