There aren’t any warnings. Tensions were apparent.  
 
Voices in our heads are paranormal (if we say so). Diversified specialists dispatch our bodies to the co-op, wrapped in steam. You were saying..  
 
That said, the minute we get off the phone, the fog-enclosure switches back to a sacred lotus. I don’t think like that. Don’t believe that, impetuously. Never happened. 
Outside, a panel membrane, the third largest seller, floats me into the future, new windows frame up vague change, like converging plebiscites, better to pump out to the fog’s grasp.