Raiding the fridge

I creep towards the door. "Here we go, the big reveal!" My hand grasps the cold handle, a shiver of anticipation running down my spine.

The fridge door swings open—ta-da!

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I think, my hopes deflating like a sad balloon after a birthday party. ‘Hello again,’ the half-empty juice carton seems to say. The lightbulb overhead casts a harsh spotlight on the barren wasteland of leftovers. I shut the fridge and walk away, sealing in my disappointment.

But then, a sly smirk carves itself onto my face. ‘What if?’ The greatest question of human curiosity. Maybe, just maybe, in the nanoseconds since the fridge closed, a transformation took place. A celestial turnover. An interdimensional delivery service of snacks.

I rush back and fling open the fridge again, with a flourish of ridiculous hope, fully expecting a feast fit for a king.