“Fluttershy?”

“Hmm?” She yawns, opening a single eye to look at me.

“How many clouds do you think there are?”

She shrugs sleepily. “I don’t know... sorry.”

I probably shouldn’t have asked, flying always takes a lot out of her. “Forget I asked, go back to sleep.” She mewls softly and goes back to dreamland.

I wish I could be more like that, sleeping in the afternoon sun sounds awesome; but I can’t stop thinking.

How many clouds are there? Why doesn’t everypony live on one?

I find myself yawning as well. Perhaps I could learn to nap after all.