Either I've been missing something or nothing has been going on.

Teeth of winter, sinking into my flesh, my own clacking against each other like knitting needles, and I wish they'd knit a heavy shawl around my shoulders before widening into a yawn. Why do I always yawn when I'm cold?

Either I've been missing something or nothing has been going on.

Killing time takes practice.

We all ended up somewhere with our various uncertain lives flapping about us in tatters and our pockets full of foreign coins.

A pronoun, too, will aptly reflect the number of its antecedent: "they" does not refer to one person, no matter how many personalities she or he has, or how eager you are to skirt the gender frays.

Time is the mother and mugger of us all.