“Did you hear that the wind talked back last Tuesday?” she asked, not looking up from her kaleidoscope.
“Yeah, it said something about clocks and trees. I think it was trying to rhyme,” he replied, tracing invisible shapes in the air.
“I’ve been thinking,” whispered the shadow beneath the streetlamp, “if we all start spinning, who’ll notice the world standing still?”
“Maybe the stars will count us,” replied the figure in the raincoat, “one by one, in their own endless loops.”