Screen Saver

Through the window he saw a hundred flying toasters. Screen after screen, each faint reflection in the window glass, and he remembered them. Remember how awesome they were, as in they inspired actual awe. And they did a version of it now, so many of them, feet and inches apart and on top of each other. He hadn't seen this screen saver, he didn't knew anyone still used them. What put it in that person's mind, he wondered, to add wings to a toaster? Who wanted to see a toaster flying through space. He concocted scenarios; a play on "when pigs fly," a drunken doodle, a domestic dispute turned spark of creativity. And what put it in this person's mind, he kept on, to keep it on these computers. It must have been a rule of the office, there must be a sign. A sign to put the fling toasters on and keep them on throughout the night. Shining through the pane like stars from the past, when the littlest things were impressive. And now the world was quick, and dark, and there was snow falling on his jacket.