"You daydream too much." Margaret sat next to her little sister's, flipping pages of a book without drawings. "You're not even paying attention to what I was saying." The book was old, probably a history book with dull details of dates that were long lost in Time's grasp. Margaret stopped scanning her book when there was no answer, her eyes being pried from the small letters of the text and directed at her sister's blue eyes, which were scanning the sky.
"Sorry," her little sister sighed in reply. "Do you ever ponder about what clouds taste like?" Her sister was an odd one, yes; there had been no doubt in her mind since that day she came rushing to her, voice hushed and talking avidly about a place in which white rabbits with waistcoats lived and tea parties were held every hour of every day.
"I always ponder about what's in your mind," Margaret replied to her little sister's curious question, looking sternly at her. "What do you daydream about all the time?"
"You must be a daydreamer yourself to know. It takes one to know one." Her little sister played with the tips of her blonde hair, eyes lost in the sky. Margaret was slowly losing her patience; her little sister always had a way to avoid giving direct answers, something she said she had learned thanks to a smiling cat.
"I decided clouds taste differently, according to their shapes. What if I found one in a bear's shape? Would it taste like bear? How would I know it's bear that I'm tasting?" Questions were her little sister's way of entertaining herself, but she asked for too much, for her questions could never really be answered due to the ridiculous ones she tended to formulate. "When you start daydreaming, Margaret, you'll get it," she finally answered, giving a weak smile and then retracting back to her dreamworld, eyes again lost in the clouds.