But as he measured a half-cup of the baking soda, his hand paused. "Same old reaction," he muttered. "Carbonic acid, sodium acetate, water, and carbon dioxide. Predictable."
The sink let out a sound like a waking dragon. A thick, dry foam, shot through with white lightning-like crystals, erupted from the drain, climbing six inches into the air before collapsing into a churning, bubbling geyser. The water in the sink didn't just bubble; it danced , swirling counter-clockwise as if trying to escape its own reflection.
Tonight, the sink was full of murky, standing water, reflecting his tired face like a dirty mirror. He sighed, reached under the cabinet, and pulled out the two white canisters: Arm & Hammer baking soda and a jug of plain white vinegar.
Smiling, Leo washed his hands. But as he reached for the towel, he noticed something odd. The metal sink strainer was clean. Not just clean—polished. The decades of hard water stains and scratches were gone. In their place was a flawless, mirror-like sheen.
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