ran away. Far away. No one knew where or why. No one cared. How did it matter? One thought less didn’t really make any difference. The sun would still rise, the sky would still glow orange, and the air still bounce back light into the friendly skies.
Come, they said, and travel the friendly skies. Thoughts no charge. Paint the skies, colour on the house, the brushes too. Bring only your imagination, they said.
And they came. And they coloured the skies and painted the air and played with the clouds and danced on the trees and then lay down on the grass and died.
And somewhere, a thought ran away.