A Small White Cloud

A Small White Cloud

A small white cloud floats into the centre of the sky. Straight up
from my head, the middle of everything, it holds itself there and looks
down at me. "It's easy," it says. "Why are you trying so hard?"

I'm confused and I'm frowning. "I am not going to talk to a small
white cloud," I say looking up.

"But it's eeeasy," it says again. And this time it shuffles. The small
white cloud rearranges its puff and sighs. "You're making things much
too difficult," it breathes. It rolls over gently, stretching,
yawning.

"You've just woken up!" I say angrily. "I've been up since the crack
of dawn!" Then looking around I add, "I am not going to talk to a small
white cloud."

There is silence again and I guess to myself that the small white
cloud has moved on.

"I bet you wish you were a cloud," it suddenly whispers. "Remember,
it's eeeasy. Don't make complications."

I'm fuming, getting red in the face. I cover my ears and I storm off,
away from that spot, away from that shadow. I've got a million and one
things playing on my mind, the last thing I need is a small white
cloud.