Kling Prompt: She walked around with her head in the clouds—?no metaphor, baby, I mean actual cumulus.?Weather system on standby.?Forecast? Emotional with a chance of why-the-hell-not. Butterflies orbit like they got questions,?like they’re trying to find the exit wound in her wonder.?She doesn’t notice.?She’s busy conjuring storms with her thoughts,?turning over old memories like damp laundry.And then—?a shift. A snap.?The clouds part like stage curtains.?Sunlight spills through her like she was never solid.