Maya stumbled back, tears on her face. But they weren't sad tears. They were the tears of someone who had just seen their own soul's blueprint.
He’d found it years ago, a wisp left behind by graduating seniors. Most days, it just hung there, a silent, gentle ghost. But on certain afternoons, when the light slanted just right, the Bong Cloud would do things.
"That's a lie," she whispered. "I can't do that. I can barely draw a straight line."
"What is that?" she whispered, eyes wide.
