Heads Above the Clouds

I was walking through the fields in our backyard, the soft rustle of the grass beneath my feet mingling with the melodious chirping of birds that seemed to sing just for me. The air was warm and inviting, and the breeze kissed my skin, making me feel as if I were part of the land itself. I felt safe here, surrounded by the simplicity of the fields that stretched endlessly in every direction. It was a world I could disappear into, a peaceful place where nothing could touch me. I lifted my gaze to the sky, watching the clouds drift lazily, their forms shifting and dissolving in the vast blue expanse.

I wondered, Why do clouds move in almost the same direction every day? It was a thought that often crossed my mind. Did they have somewhere they needed to be, some secret destination? I wondered...

"Cirus, where are you? We're going to be late. I thought you wanted to come along."

"Coming!" I called, snapping back to reality.

I remembered asking Mom if I could come with her to meet her friend. It was a rare opportunity to leave the house, and the thought of being somewhere other than my familiar surroundings filled me with excitement. Maybe her friend even had a friend for me, I hoped, a chance for me to finally meet someone my own age. "Mom, does your friend also have a friend for me?" I asked eagerly, glancing up at her as she dug through her purse.

"She has a son, if that's what you're asking," she replied, her attention still on her bag.

"Is he the same age as me?" I asked, feeling a slight knot of anxiety in my chest.

"I don't know," she answered absentmindedly, her fingers sifting through the items in her bag.

The driver's voice cut through the quiet, his tone polite but professional. "Ma'am, we have arrived."

I stood taller, saluting him with exaggerated seriousness for his hard work. He chuckled softly, returning my salute with a quick nod. As I followed Mom toward the house, I couldn't help but notice the sprawling mansions lining the street. The houses here were enormous, far grander than the one we lived in. I had never seen so many in one place. Back home, we were surrounded by wide open fields, and our house was the only one for miles around. It was strange to see so many people living so close to each other. Unlike most kids, I didn't go to school. Teachers would come to our house, giving me lessons, and I was used to being alone. But today, on Saturday, there was no one around, and I was thrilled to go with Mom.

"We're here, so behave yourself," she said, her voice firm but carrying an undercurrent of affection.

I nodded, the words already rehearsed in my mind. She knocked on the door, and it opened almost immediately. A woman stood in the doorway, her black hair pulled back into a neat bun, her skin pale and flawless, and her bright green eyes catching mine. Her gaze softened as she noticed me standing behind Mom. The sunlight glinted off her eyes, the color reminding me of the lush green grass in the fields where I played.

Behind her, a boy stood silently, a little older than me perhaps, with black hair and the same shade of green eyes, though his seemed darker, more mysterious. He didn't smile, just watched me curiously.

"Sorry if we're late," my mom said, pulling something from her purse. "Here you go, sorry if this is not much," she added, handing an envelope to her friend, a slight nervousness in her voice.

"Oh, you didn't have to," the woman said, glancing at the envelope before turning her gaze to me. "Is this your son?" she asked, her voice soft as she crouched down to my level.

"He is. Say hi," Mom urged gently, her hand resting on my back, guiding me forward.

"Hi," I mumbled, my gaze dropping to the floor, embarrassed by the attention.

"You look just like your father," the woman said, reaching out to gently rub my head. Her touch was warm and comforting.

I looked up at her, surprised. "I do?" I asked, feeling a small thrill of hope bubble inside me.

She smiled and looked back at my mom. Then, her gaze softened as she turned back to me. "You do." She straightened up and placed a hand on the shoulder of the boy behind her. "Meet Neal, my son," she said, gently nudging him forward.

Neal shuffled closer, his eyes still on the ground. "Hi," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

I hesitated for a moment, then extended my hand. He looked at it, his expression uncertain, before slowly shaking it. "My name is Cirus. Nice to meet you," I said, forcing a smile.

Neal didn't say anything at first, but I could see curiosity flicker in his eyes. "How about we go inside? I made muffins and coffee for us," Neal's mom said, leading the way.

As we stepped inside, the air felt warmer, filled with the scent of fresh baked goods and coffee. My eyes wandered over the walls, lined with framed paintings, each one more intriguing than the last. One in particular caught my attention-it depicted a man with dark horns and jet-black wings, his gaze fixed on something just outside the frame, as though trapped between worlds. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it.

We finally settled into the living room, the couch soft beneath me. I was still holding onto Neal's hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine. When I finally let go, I asked him what his favorite hobby was. Neal's face brightened, a shy smile spreading across his lips.

"I like looking at the clouds move in the sky," he said, his voice gaining strength. "I like how they change shape. My favorite is the one that looks like a mare's tail. It's called a cirrus," he said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "It's funny, right? Like your name."

I laughed. "Yeah, that's funny," I agreed.

Neal's mom soon emerged from the kitchen, carrying a plate full of warm muffins. The sweet scent wafted toward us, making my mouth water. "Sorry it took a while," she apologized. "Help yourselves."

I grabbed a muffin and peeled off the paper carefully, savoring the moment of peace.

"What about you?" Neal asked between bites, his voice still soft but more confident now. "What's your hobby?"

"I like running through the fields next to my house," I said, savoring the rich flavor of the muffin. "I also like watching the clouds."

Neal's face lit up. "After we eat, want to come with me to the backyard? It's huge! We can look at the clouds together."

I nodded enthusiastically, and we made our way outside. Neal's backyard stretched out before me like an endless expanse, almost as wide as the fields near our home. "Want to play tag?" I asked impulsively, tapping him lightly on the chest before dashing off, my heart racing with excitement.

We ran, laughing and shouting, until we were both out of breath. We collapsed under the shade of a tall tree, the cool grass beneath us offering a welcome relief.

"So, what kind of clouds do you like?" Neal asked, his voice thoughtful as he stared at the sky.

"I don't know," I said, my gaze following the drifting shapes. "I just like watching them, how they change."

Neal turned to look at me, his eyes locking onto mine. The deep green of his gaze reminded me of the grass beneath us, vibrant and alive. I felt a warmth spread through me, something new, something exciting.

"Your eyes... they look like gold," Neal said softly, his voice full of wonder.

"My mom said they're the same color as my dad's," I replied, turning my eyes back to the sky. "She says he had eyes just like mine."

Neal shifted closer, his expression serious now. "Did you ever meet your dad?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I shook my head, the ache in my chest growing as I remembered the rare moments when Mom would speak of him. "No. My mom never talks about him. She says... he passed beyond his veil," I said, the words sounding strange even as I spoke them. I didn't understand what it meant.

Neal reached out, his hand brushing my shoulder. "Don't be sad," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "Maybe he'll come one day."

I nodded, blinking back the sudden sting in my eyes. I smiled at Neal, feeling his kindness warm me from the inside.

We lay there in silence for a while, just listening to the sounds of the world around us. It was a peaceful kind of silence, one that felt natural, as if we had been friends for a long time.

"Cirus, Neal, time to come inside," Neal's mom's voice called from the house, breaking the stillness.

Neal stood and extended his hand to me. "Let's go," he said, smiling brightly.

I took his hand, and together we ran back toward the house. Inside, lunch was waiting for us, and we ate together in a comfortable silence.

When it was time to go, Mom stood up, her expression unreadable as she glanced at me. "Let's go home."

Before we left, Neal and I shared a tight hug, the kind that made me feel like I had found something precious.

"See you soon," Neal whispered, his voice filled with promise.

"Mhm," I hummed, my heart feeling light.

As we waited for the car, I felt a warm glow inside me. I had made a friend, and I couldn't wait to see Neal again. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel lonely.

When our car finally arrived, I gave the driver my usual salute. But this time, he didn't return it. I didn't mind though. Instead, I slid into the back seat, my thoughts filled with Neal and the promise of more adventures to come.

"Mom, when are we visiting Neal again?" I asked, the question tumbling out before I could stop it.

"Next month," Mom replied absently, her attention once again on her phone. "But I'm sure you'll have classes when I visit them again."

"Could I skip my classes and come with you instead?" I asked, the thought of another day with Neal making me wish I could be with him always.

"No, you can't," she said firmly, not even looking up.

"Not fair," I muttered, my gaze fixed out the window, my mind still replaying the day's events.

Then, suddenly, the car jolted. The tires screeched as something slammed into the vehicle, sending both of us hurtling toward the front of the car. The world exploded into chaos.