We were in the car, driving over the bridge, when I looked up at the sky. The sky has seemed to be bluer than I remember it to be- and so the clouds are more distinct. The cloud I saw was not very interesting in its outwardly shape. But there was a hole punched in it from when the man in the moon ran away. I knew it was him because when I looked at the moon, he was no longer smiling. He had gotten sick of it all and left, without so much as an encore performance.
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