Pensively ponders purpose.

Antediluvian memories are called, but do not appear.

Head is not ready for the lyceum, but heart will regret not attending.

Experiencing a noctilucent sky will lift chin off hand, but will it raise spirits as well?

Thoughts freeze with paralyzed knees.

Wishes wish for a future play: “Gee willikers, I *can*—turn a think into a do.”

Eyes blink.

Sleeves rustle.

Feet shift.

Seat scooches. : )