You are on your way to the train station. It's a sweltering hot afternoon. Sweat has been running down everything. Your shirt is so damp, one might wonder whether you just finished holding a press conference after a catastrophic mistake your company made. The oppressive heat makes it difficult to pay attention to anything in particular. If you stopped paying attention, your vision would blur immediately. Cicadas, however, seem to be particularly overjoyed today as their ceaseless buzzing takes away ever more of what little sanity the weather has left you to begin with. In this state of near-delirium, the only reason you have any chance of making it to the train station is muscle memory and routine.

A dog barks. You continue your march. A dog barks. You slightly delay your motions, but continue. A dog barks. Dazed, you look at the source of the barking. You cannot help but wonder: "What da dog doin'?"