When the race began, I was thinking about two things. The hot summer sun ate my skin I was simply ice cream. Simply ice cream, but it's never that simple. We melt, and at last we are alert of those two things I was thinking of. Plus, we shouldn't end sentences with prepositions.
As for the winner, his smile was dry, but it wasn't his fault. Why don't the clouds participate in these little rallies? About six thirty and I was glad. It was the kind of bus ride where the speed could be a little slower. In fact, the only other thing that could be slower was the winner. Being second is never fun. Except, instead of second, I was last. But that's okay, they told me. Of course winners think it's okay. Butterflies don't mind cocoons either.
Finally the pillow was squishy squishy, and my consciousness gave out. The muscles followed. The only thing left behind were those two unfinished thoughts.
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