Space

Just like it’s wrong to say that they aren’t making any more real estate, it’s equally wrong to say that they aren’t making any more space.  Along the edges of the universe, between known existence and unknown somethingness, which could also be nothingness but no one knows for sure, space farmers toil and work planting space seeds, fertilizing and nurturing them until the seeds grow into plants and the plants eventually produce an intriguing black fruit that will ripen becoming so black as to transcend all blackness until it becomes almost reflective, mirroring the vast darkness of the universe with all its planets and stars and mysteries floating throughout.  When the time comes and within a breath of wonderment, the fruit itself will seem to disappear so subtly that it's barely perceptible, as if evaporating from the outside in, shrinking before the very eyes of the space farmers who anticipate the moment but who also know that the fruit is not really disappearing at all but becoming more space just as it was intended to do and leaving behind another space seed to continue the cycle.  It’s hard to tell whether the new space is simply added on to the edges of the universe to extend the universe’s reach out into the unknown somethingness or if the newly harvested space pushes the existing space further towards the center of the universe where it is theorized a black hole converts space into the unknown somethingness that is funneled through worm holes beyond the known universe thereby maintaining an equilibrium of space within the universe.  Either way, there is nothing like the smell of fresh space.