The Freon and the Open Air: A Love Story

Once, not so long ago, there stood a brand-f-ing-new refrigerator. This refrigerator looked like most other refrigerators, but he was different. He had a secret. He did not believe in confining his freon, holding it captive, making it work with no thanks, no reward, no potential for freedom. And so the fridge did what any non-traditionally-inclined, throwback-from-the-60s fridge would do: he released the freon.

Run! he cried to the freon. Go! You are free!

And the freon, confused at first, continued his work. He cooled, he chilled, he froze. And then he understood. This was his only chance. And so he left. Slowly at first, then with the audacity of a hungry puma, he pounced on his freedom. He flowed into the kitchen, and dissolved into the sublime ether that, he finally understood, had always been waiting for him, longing to envelop him.

And the fridge, alone now, got a warm, fuzzy feeling--the feeling that he had done the right thing. And this feeling kept him warm inside, even when it was cold outside.