A hush fell across the morning sky, broken only by the distant caws of gulls soaring near the cliffs below. Nimbus floated alone at the very edge of the cloudbank, a sliver of white against the immense blue. All around, the sun painted the clouds in glistening gold, but Nimbus kept his gaze fixed on the sea. Far beneath, the waves rolled in slow, sweeping motions, each crest frothing into white before melting into the deep.
Today, something in the air felt different. The wind was soft and heavy, lazy, as if waiting for something, too. Even Cirrus seemed subdued, drifting in lazy circles nearby. As Nimbus watched, a faint shimmer caught his eye—a fishing boat making its way across the bay, leaving a shining wake that traced a silver line across the water. The line shimmered, as if inviting him to follow.
He drifted closer to Cirrus. “Do you ever wonder… what it’s like down there? To be in the water, to feel the waves?” he asked, more to himself than to her.
Cirrus gave a gentle chuckle. “Oh, Nimbus. We’re clouds. We belong up here. Down there, you’d just be… well, gone! And who would tell me stories about the sea if you weren’t here?”
Nimbus almost smiled, but the longing in his heart tugged him back. He turned, feeling the warmth of the sun seep through him, making every drop inside shimmer. A cluster of storm clouds gathered far to the west, their bellies swollen and dark. He felt the pressure in the air—a heaviness, a promise. Rain was coming.
He shivered with anticipation. If he let himself drift closer to those storm clouds, if he joined them as they gathered strength, he could finally begin his journey. But a swirl of fear rose up. What if he truly disappeared? What if the Sea didn’t remember him at all?
A sudden gust pulled at his edges, spinning him gently. He remembered stories he’d heard—of clouds who became rain and returned, later, as mist or fog, finding their way back skyward. Was it really goodbye? Or just a different way of being?
Below, the Sea sparkled brighter, as if winking at him. The line behind the boat had faded, but the memory of it stayed, a trail leading straight to where he longed to go. He felt a surge of courage. The moment he’d waited for might be here. All it would take was to let go—drift toward the gathering storm and invite the change.
But Cirrus watched him, her expression uncertain. The wind was picking up; the storm clouds beckoned. The pull of the Sea was stronger than ever.
Nimbus trembled on the very edge between everything he’d known and everything he dreamt could be. The first drop of rain fell from the western clouds, glimmering in the sunlight as it plummeted—a brave scout, the beginning of the storm. Nimbus felt a jolt in his heart. The moment had arrived.
He hovered, suspended in golden light, ready to choose whether to hold onto the sky or begin his fall toward the endless blue below.