The pale green fruit sat motionless on Marcus’s kitchen counter, its pebbled skin catching the morning light. He had purchased it yesterday, yet something about this particular avocado felt different - almost metaphysical in nature.
“You seem troubled by that fruit,” came a voice behind him. Marcus turned to find an elderly man in antiquated clothing standing in his kitchen. The stranger’s beard was white as sea foam, his eyes deep as ocean trenches.
“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Marcus demanded.
The old man smiled mysteriously. “I am Herman, a wanderer between worlds. And that avocado you’re fixating upon - it’s invalid in this timeline.”
Marcus scoffed. “Invalid? It’s just a piece of fruit.”
“Is it though?” Herman gestured toward the avocado. “Look closer. Really look.”
As Marcus studied it, the fruit’s outline seemed to blur and shift, as if existing in multiple places at once. A strange vertigo overcame him.
“What you see before you,” Herman continued, “is an anomaly - a convergence point where multiple realities intersect. This avocado exists simultaneously in countless timelines, yet belongs to none of them.”
“That’s impossible,” Marcus whispered, though he could no longer deny the ethereal quality of the fruit’s presence.
“Impossible?” Herman’s laugh was like distant thunder. “My boy, reality is far more vast and strange than your limited perspective allows. This invalid avocado is merely a small symbol of greater cosmic truths.”
As if triggered by these words, the kitchen began to dissolve around them. Marcus found himself adrift in an endless void, Herman’s voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere:
“All of time and space is connected, linked by symbols and meanings we can barely comprehend. This fruit represents the convergence of infinite possibilities - much like you yourself.”
“What do you mean?” Marcus called into the void.
“You too exist across multiple timelines, multiple realities. The you that stands here now is but one version among countless others. The invalid avocado appeared to you because you were ready to understand this truth.”
The void began to coalesce back into Marcus’s kitchen. The avocado still sat on the counter, but now Marcus saw it with new eyes - not as mere fruit, but as a gateway between worlds.
Herman placed a weathered hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “The question now is: what will you do with this knowledge?”
Marcus reached for the avocado with trembling fingers. As his hand made contact, he felt reality shift once again. But this time, he wasn’t afraid. He was ready to embrace the infinite.
When his neighbors later asked about the strange lights they’d seen coming from his kitchen that morning, Marcus only smiled. The invalid avocado was gone, but its truth remained - a reminder that reality was far more mysterious and interconnected than anyone suspected.
Some say that on quiet nights, if you listen carefully, you can still hear Herman’s laugher echoing across the boundaries of time and space, inviting other souls to discover what Marcus learned: that sometimes the most profound truths come disguised in the most mundane packages.