![]() She had some interesting thoughts, which I found intriguing and insightful-sometimes I learn as much from her as I do from whoever is teaching. ![]() I was in class with her a few minutes ago discussing William Shakespeare’s ability to turn tragedy into near comedy. They want to hear my thoughts-especially now, ahead of tomorrow. It’s not her fault she interrupts my quiet time. ![]() Without tearing my eyes from the beautiful view, I raise a welcoming hand. Or, rather, I’m never out here for long before she shows up. “There you are,” Holly says, walking through the glass doors several meters behind me, as though there’s anywhere else I’d be. It is the perfect quiet space in which to mull over the day and my future. This is my spot, my place to escape to at the end of a walkway to nowhere. Occasionally I’m sure I can see shapes from the city below, but that might be my imagination. ![]() A constant veil hides the world and me from each other. Up here in my home above the clouds, I can’t be seen, or see, thanks to the white cloud lying between us. ![]() Everything I could ever need is here, within the vast half-bubble of the Dome, where the glass lets the beauty of outside in. Heights don’t bother me, which is a good thing: I can’t remember a time when I didn’t live above the clouds in the sanctuary they built for me in which I sleep, eat, learn, and grow. I watch my feet as they extend into a perfect point, then flex them, feeling the pull of my calf muscles and enjoying the breeze on my skin as I sit with my legs dangling over the Drop. ![]()
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