He perched on a chair on his roof and read his book at a dizzyingly slow pace. Even a compelling collection of essays proved too much for his focus, which drifted to the bright sun above, out west at the Manhattan skyline, down at his toes in need of a pedicure, over at the ground where the roof tiles met the walls.
He overthought about how he would yell for her, what exactly he would say, how loud he’d be, and what things the dog might do that would warrant him needing to yell for her.
Just what I would do:
He overthought about how he would yell for her, what exactly he would say, how loud he’d be, and what things the dog might do that would warrant him needing to yell for her.