Cups rattled in their saucers without the slightest trace of nervousness or uncomfortability.
"Is there a better path to unearth the motivation for your yearning, or do all thoughts begin as tangible things like neurons firing their rayguns?" I wondered, though the silence comported itself as if it carried sound.
"It was just hot in the car, so we rolled the windows down." He paused, looking at something that might have been a coaster or a flying disk.
A far wind softly rattled the window in its cage, but I didn't see a damn thing because I had an itch located fathoms under my ribs and no eyes to scratch it with.
"We were lost, after all, in the general viscinity of Dubuque, and it was the season of the floods."