Toilet Paper _verified_ - Dissolve

Leo sighed. He was a modern man. He believed in chemistry. He unscrewed the cap. The liquid inside wasn't blue, or clear. It was a shifting, iridescent grey, like oil on water, but it smelled of ozone and old libraries.

Leo had inherited the house from his Great-Uncle Silas, a man who believed that if something wasn't broken, you didn't fix it, and if it was broken, you simply ignored it until it went away. The toilet, a porcelain monstrosity installed sometime in the 1950s, had developed a cough. It groaned. It gurgled. And for the last week, it had refused to flush anything more substantial than liquid hope. dissolve toilet paper

WHOOSH.

"No," Leo whispered. He tried to grab the door handle, but his hand passed through it. The wood had become pulp. Leo sighed

Leo backed up until his shoulders hit the sink, but the sink gave way, dissolving into a cloud of white fluff that drifted toward the ceiling. He realized then that the chemical didn't just dissolve paper. It dissolved the idea of structure. It unwrote the story of the room. He unscrewed the cap