"Ever had that feeling, the one where the clock's hands are just... wrong?" The question drifted like summer smoke, lingering in corners where echoes dared not tread.

"I saw a cat today, perched on a fence, like it was waiting for a train." She spoke, her eyes tracing unseen paths on the ceiling above.

"Do you think trees ever dream of being something else?" he asked, planting seeds of thought within the soil of silence.

Once upon a time, or maybe it was never, a bird sang a song that only the shadows understood, and the sun chuckled with warm delight.

"Sometimes, I wonder if our footsteps leave impressions on the stars." Her voice was a gentle compass, pointing to horizons uncharted.