“Listen, out in the distance—was that the sound of a clock racing?”
“The toaster sings a hymn, but only when it rains!” an excited murmur broke the misty air.
Laughter erupted like a cat waking at twilight, soft and echoing off the walls of sleep.
“Bet you a nickel, these shadows know the names of secrets.” someone whispered under a breath fragrant with pine.
“I swear I heard the driftwood reciting poetry. Rhymes about mirrors without edges!”
“Do shadows wear socks? I heard they hide crisp autumn leaves in pockets.” A gust of enthusiasm colored every syllable.