Froth Doesn't

Kant is peering into the Tic Tac box.

Terence comes back with a handful of sand.

What are you looking at? asks Terence.

This glass shard, says Kant. Reconstructing its history. 

Can I trickle the sand on it now? asks Terence.

Certainly, says Kant. It will be a new chapter.

Like in a story? asks Terence.

Yes, a story, says Kant, but more than a story.

Terence starts trickling.

He doesn't ask what Kant means by more than a story.

But Kant continues, because he wishes to express his new philosophical thought.

By that I mean seeing the whole, says Kant.

Terence gets that.

He too is seeing the hole.

Do I stop yet? asks Terence.

You might help me, says Kant. 

I asked first, says Terence.

I can only go back so far in the glass shard's story, says Kant. Tic Tac box, Arthur's pustule, a part of a glass bottle, but I know almost nothing about the glass bottle.

It broke, says Terence. Should I stop yet?

That is the one thing I do know, says Kant. What kind of bottle was it?

A vinegar bottle, says Terence. With Gloopy inside it. It fell out of a tree, in a play.

So many details are knowable, says Kant. It's a wonderful thing. Even a tiny glass shard has its own rich existence.

Yes, says Terence. And it's still going. 

Indeed, says Kant. It's now covered in sand. By the way, I think you should stop now.

I have, says Terence. I've run out of sand. 

Have you left enough room for the sample of karenia mikimotoi? asks Kant.

Course I have, says Terence. You wait here with the box and I'll go and collect some. 

What in? asks Kant.

In my hand, says Terence. 

He runs to a spot where a large heap of froth quivers.

And scoops up a handful.

On the way back it occurs to him that he may have a problem.

Sand trickles, froth doesn't.