Chiaroscuro of a Passing Thought circa 2026 Mrs. Gilly
Milk and Something Green
The paper cloud is shaped precisely, like a thought bubble, which is appropriate, its edges frayed into something that resists finite, the way a held breath resists release, or the way Sundays resist ending.
It is a serious cloud, or at least it thinks it is, which amounts to the same thing. Not the drifting kind, but the kind with intentions, the kind that has considered the distance between itself and the ground below, and found it reasonable, as distances go.
It thinks, briefly, about becoming a storm, a cumulus collage with ambitions, then thinks perhaps a grocery list would do, milk, and something green.