Cloud Factory

The setting was a city, industrial. Small now, but like all Michigan cities it’s decline came when the auto industry left. When fathers blamed themselves and mothers worked more jobs than they could. Kids were picked up later. And there wasn’t enough money for that this year. Every winter reminded them that nothing in life is constant, and water and heat are more important than new backpacks. From their house you could see an abandoned house, that at its time was beautiful, and at its time was fixed up with love and expectations of the babies future. The same future forced them to leave for Colorado.  Then there was the neighbors. An old lady, whose husband a marine died sooner than they both planned. A small flag blew in the wind. 

Just above that house was a smoke stack the tower of the old Chrysler plant. In Wills life it was always there. He didn’t realise this until 5 years after he moved away. His whole life he found the smoke stack he found home. And to him it felt like it looked out for him. When he biked away it was to his left when he came home to his right. He cried once at its base hurled stone after stone, screaming profanities at it. But it didn’t move. 

When his dad lost his job the smoke stack stopped too. Or maybe it was before. He used to tell him every morning he was making clouds. And that’s what he was working on. How to build a cloud that would last all the way to the Mississippi on Monday, and make it rain in California on Friday. 

Will sketched different clouds now thinking about all this. Outside the leaves fell from the trees in oranges and reds. 
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