With one hand still holding him, I point up to the sky. “That cloud looks like Cleocatra.” Rhys groans, but I detect humor in the sound. “And if you squint, that one looks like you petting her.” “Weird. Because I would never pet her.” I snort. Liar. “Plus, that strip of cloud is way too long to be my arm. It looks all stretched out.” “You’re right. Maybe that’s Terence petting Cleocatra.”
