The Cirrus clouds pulled away. “We are very high-fashion and very thin,” they sniffed. “You are much too... chunky. We can’t be friends.”
Once there was a little cloud named Dub. While most clouds in the sky liked to bunch together into big, fluffy blankets, Dub was a bit different—he was a bright, neon-purple mist.
The big clouds looked at him and shuddered. “Oh dear, no,” they huffed. “You’re far too bright. You’ll ruin our aesthetic for the landscape painters below. We can’t be friends.” (Dub) 1 : We Can't Make Any Friends
Dub’s purple mist began to glow. “They told me I was too bright and too chunky!”
“Hey!” the orange fog yelled. “I’m Zip. I’ve been hiding in this cave because the other fogs think I’m too loud and too orange.” The Cirrus clouds pulled away
Dub sighed a little puff of rain and drifted toward the high, wispy Cirrus clouds. They looked like delicate white feathers. “Hello! Want to play tag?”
He floated over to a group of big, white Cumulus clouds. “Hi! Can I hang out with you guys?” he asked, wiggling his purple edges. chunky
Dub felt very lonely. He drifted down toward the mountains, thinking, Maybe I’m just not meant to have friends.