Megha and Chinti and the Lighthouse

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The sky is made of soft gray wool tonight. It hums when you drift close enough to hear. Every cloud has a pocket of warm light waiting inside.

You are Megha, a small cloud who is just learning how to float. The air carries you over the Valley of Whispering Lanterns. Below, tiny lights bob like fireflies in a bowl of milk. MEGHA: "Listen, little lights" The lights do not answer. They only sway.

You notice one lantern is dimmer than the others. It flickers once, twice, then holds its breath. The valley feels colder where it sits. MEGHA: "Why is that one sad?" You drift lower. The lantern’s glass is cool against your misty edges.

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