There were some kids in the park, arguing about bulb.
“Bulb,” said the tall one.
“Bulb,” said the short one, shaking her head. “No bulb.”
“Bulb,” said the middle one, and then from a pocket she pulled out some tissues, a hat, two gloves, a mitten, a sock, and bulb.
“Bulb,” she repeated, and showed it to them all.
“Bulb,” said the short one, and she reached out slowly towards it. “Bulb.”
The tall one suddenly snatched it up and put it in her mouth. She started to glow, first red, then green, finally settling down to a deep, unsettling shade of purest bulb.
I shielded my eyes with my arms, only to discover that bulb transmits across all frequencies, wavelengths, sensations, magnetions, atomic crystularities, the dimensions of time.
There was bulb. There is bulb. There comes bulb.
I am bulb and you are bulb and we are bulb.
Bulb. Bulb. Bulb.
The tall bulb began to dim and when I looked up the short bulb and the middle bulb had run away and left the tall bulb fading there on her own.
I looked down at my feet and pretended I hadn’t seen bulb. But I had seen bulb, had heard bulb, tasted bulb, smelt bulb, thought bulb, dreamy bulb, become bulb.
I stood up and walked away. When I put my hands in my pockets I discovered bulb in each one.
“Bulb,” I said.
Bulb.
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1. Bulb
2. BULB