There are days that drag and I knock my head trying to get some dopamine to sluice around.
For a second I felt shudderingly sad and would have 1) cried 2) lain under a table, pulling down a black rotary phone with me, just in case 3) yelled; but it is apparent now as everything is apparent, as listening to recordings of crickets is crickets say, or grooming yourself, or being busy was—apparent in the pluperfect.