Fawn rested under a tree. She was hot. The grass was not cool. The air was not cool. The cool spot under the tree was not cool.
"Why is it hot? It was not hot a few weeks ago," she told herself. "The days were nice. Lots of pink and white flowers bloomed. It was spring. I liked spring a lot!"
Other fawns sat under other trees.
"Fawn! What do you want to do?" one asked.
"I do not know," she said. "What do you want to do?"