The Pirate Ship

James sat like marshmallow cream in his office chair. With every ding of a new email, he sunk a little lower, and sighed a little heavier.

It was only Thursday, after all.

The view of the mountains called him from his desktop background. Although by the time the sound got to him, it wasn’t much of a call. More like a muffled groan behind all of the windows and tabs that remained open.

A passing butterfly caught his attention, and James’s eyes followed its dotted path out of view.

That’s when he saw it.

A pirate ship.

Magnificent. Enormous. Cumulus.

It sailed across the sky with reckless abandon, slowly morphing and disintegrating as it traversed the seven seas of the stratosphere.

Two dings in quick succession brought him back to his desk. It must be urgent. He clawed through windows and desktops to find the right tab, with only a few more moments to respond.

James’s heart raced as he read through the message, already forming his response. It had to be clear. It had to be quick. And it had to be right.

He wrote once, proofread twice, and shot off the paper airplane. Satisfied.

An airplane.

James turned back to the sky to see clouds that didn’t look much like anything at all.

One ding.