(dub) 1 : We Can't Make Any Friends Now

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.

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.”

“I’m going to go find some best friends!” Dub announced one sunny morning. (Dub) 1 : We Can't Make Any Friends

Dub felt very lonely. He drifted down toward the mountains, thinking, Maybe I’m just not meant to have 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. He floated over to a group of big, white Cumulus clouds

Suddenly, he heard a high-pitched whistle. He looked down and saw a strange, orange-tinted fog rolling out of a cave.

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?” The big clouds looked at him and shuddered

Dub’s purple mist began to glow. “They told me I was too bright and too chunky!”