A Lovely Little Daydream

A summer smile stuck on my face, as I watched a soda truck racing across the yellow maize farm. "What is a soda truck doing in the countryside, far away from shops and clubs?" my workmate asked. He looked as though he had witnessed the Roswell event personally. "Something isn't right," he added. I smiled and gazed at the truck, as it became bigger and bigger. Monotonous tastelessness of rain water, would soon be replaced by a fizzy, sweet sensation to my tastebuds. This would be the dozenth time I tasted soda without actually drinking it.