There are all these questions flittering and buzzing in his ears like gnats in the summer, and he can’t shut them up. Turn them off. He’s got all these questions about little silver placards with strange markings and pods being covered up with tarps used for hay. Clark has questions about graveyards and girls and how he’s supposed to behave.

This is absolutely beautiful, hon. Jenn's right about your 'prose goddess'ness... and hush now, I won't hear any refutations. *bg*