smudge

the kid in charge of drawing the sky had lost the piece of paper where he'd written today's brief.

he frowned, squeezed his temples, looked up, looked down, squinted really hard, ...couldn't remember. was it cloudy? misty? sunny? stormy?

in the end he vaguely thought the weatherman had said to make it 'stormy'. so he picked up the charcoal pencil and started drawing swathes of big bulky black clouds, dark and ominous.

he walked over to find some blue ink to draw highlights in and behind the colouring box, he finds the piece of paper. he unfolds it, reads in his own clear writing: "sunny"

the kid sighs. third time this month. it's just way too early for him, not exactly a morning person. still, the weatherman will be cross again. he looks around for a good eraser, maybe he fix it properly this time and the weatherman won't notice.

he finds a big one, brand new, white and gleaming. he starts trying to erase the clouds, but the charcoal is so smudgy...

so this morning, instead of sunny, or stormy, there'll be thin whispy undefined blackish clouds, smeared across the sky, veiling the sun but letting it through too.

the weatherman looks up, but doesn't mind. after all, nobody really believes his predictions are ever accurate anyway...