
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. : )
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