Relative Something

Meanwhile, his partner is wandering around randomly through the catacombs of my brain, purposefully dragging his feet to snag wires and cables, breaking connections, holding his arms in the air simultaneously to do the same. In his feigned lack of concentration he blows air through pursed lips as if to whistle, except just short of that so the sound is really only air. About as nonchalant as anyone with a hint of a purpose could ever possibly appear.

IF, for some amazing reason, any fragment of an intentional, productive thought were to be maintained for more than a few hundred seconds, he deftly stumbles hard against the nearest surface to render the focus suddenly askant and significantly altered from the previous depth of view.

Just for good measure, he then quickly begins plugging connections back in, though certainly not in the same receptacles from which they were yanked moments earlier.

Makes me tired just reading it.