One Sunday morning, the sky stretched on endlessly blue, and the clouds drifted like cotton candy. "Weather this perfect? I simply have to go out!" Mike swung onto his prized red bicycle and gave the bell a bright little ring. He pedaled on and on, and there at the top of a hill hung a great, arching rainbow. And at the rainbow's foot — of all things — sat a tiny café made entirely of clouds. Mike took a seat, and the owl who ran the place set before him a moon-shaped cookie and a glass of lemonade with a sliver of star floating inside. One sip, and a crisp, refreshing taste spread across his tongue — like a summer breeze. "It tastes like July," Mike said with a grin. The owl smiled back, eyes crinkling with quiet delight. They chatted and chatted, and before he knew it, the world outside had gone completely dark. "Oh my — closing time already," said the owl. With that, the owl neatly folded up the rainbow and tucked it away inside the shop.