One paragraph story... July 10 edition

He thought living on a cloud would be grand. Just him and the sound of nothing; maybe a book, some cocoa. Fluff the edges to make a bed. Never have to wear shoes. Soft on the feet. Sure visitors might have a dickens of a time to find him since he would never be in the same place twice. One day in Vancouver, the next Kelowna- the hope: get all the way to Africa, see the Pyramids. Perhaps at that height he could discover a new one. See things in a different way. That was actually why he made the decision to start living on a cloud. See things in a different way. He’d been working in film as an AD for almost ten years now, and he’d caught himself becoming jaded. He was almost 40 and wondered if his outlook on the world around him was starting to solidify into the cynical bark of a snapping dog. “The things I’ve seen,” and all that. Speaking to a class of students at his film school alma mater was when he said his Dad’s favourite mantra: “No matter what, I will always be older, lived longer, and learned more than you. So listen to me.” Of course this was correct on paper, but he could not remember when he had decided he was done learning. So, he apologized to the kids, set down his coffee, and walked straight to a real estate agent to see to buying a cloud. After visiting more than a handful of agents he was beginning to think no one had ever lived on a cloud before. And more interesting, they were not owned by anyone. He packed a bag with food, a change of clothes, a summer jacket and a winter jacket, binoculars, and an induction charger so he could keep his iPod running, and climbed to the top of Grouse Mountain and waited with a 6-step ladder for the clouds to rolls by. It took him most of that afternoon, and evening to get his cloud legs, but by day three he was passing into Montana and had arranged the cloud in a comfy living space. His immediate plan was to, hopefully, pass a bookstore and fill his cloud shelf with enough books to last the trip over the Atlantic, but until them he filled his time with documenting the trip, watching the cars travel to and from work, and marvel at the people getting home from work, only to do more work around their houses, or on their cars. No one just relaxed, it seemed. Fluffing a bit of cloud to prop his head up he closed the book he was ready, using a thumb as a temporary bookmark, and thought about whether it might be cool to find a special someone to make the lifelong trip that much sweeter.

James C.