So here I am, drifting in the stratosphere with all the weather balloons. It should be freezing and hard to breathe, but I guess we balloons don’t have to worry about that.

It sure is peaceful up here. Storm systems pass below me; I make up my own names for them.

On clear days, I can see airliners make contrails in the blue haze below, looking just as distant from up here as they used to from down on the ground. I haven’t seen any planes closer than that. I’m just too high.

I have no idea where I am by now. The land shapes really aren’t too familiar from here. I’m a little worried that someone might see me on radar and send up fighter planes to shoot me down. It hasn’t happened yet, though. Maybe they think I’m just another weather balloon.

Helium leaks out of rubber balloons, because its atoms are smaller than rubber’s. Does it leak out of people balloons, too? I don’t seem to be getting any lower.

In the end, I guess I can’t really blame Janie. It’s only natural to want friends in high places.