If you’re reading this, congratulations: you’ve caught my note! Please save me. A few weeks ago, I signed up for a group trial for “living in the sky” because I thought it’d be cool. The next thing I know, I’m standing in the courtyard of a sprawling 72,000 sq. ft. estate resting on a couple of altocumuli in the troposphere. No one else in my group showed up.

I can probably guess what you’re thinking. I’ll keep that thought to myself. But speaking of thinking, I should’ve done some before living on a cloud. All I’ve eaten the past two weeks is cloud moisture and a passing bird. It takes eating 10 clouds to not be parched, and that depends on their size, density, and how thirsty you are from all the birds you’ve eaten. 

It’s scary that if I step outside of my house, I fall to the ground at a velocity that guarantees death. Basic physics, apparently. Wish I’d known that before I accidentally bumped the housekeeper out the backdoor last week– a tragedy, really– though, she kept taking the silverware, so I guess you could also say she had it coming.

My family’s somewhere down there. So is my second family. And all this time alone has allowed for some ethical introspection–  a silver lining to the whole situation– and now I’m finally ready to man up and reconnect with my third family. God, it’ll be nice to take that weight off my burdened shoulders.

So, I’m ready to face my fears. People need me down there. I’ve got a dentist appointment later today, and I’ve already rescheduled once. And thanks to you, I’ll make it. Thanks to you, I will get to see my lovely families. Because as you’ve been reading this letter, I jumped from the house at an angle that allows me to perfectly land on you and survive the fall. Unlike me, you, however, will almost certainly die. But don’t worry (and don’t move!), you won’t die just yet. You have till the end of this note.