The red balloon
Her hand grabbed the string at the last moment. The balloon, ruby red, was dragged mercilessly back down.
"Lose it again, and I'll take it back," she snapped, more tired than angry.
It was not a good day. Between solicitors, funeral directors, and the weekly food shop, she thought the balloon would at least take her son's mind off his grandfather passing, irritating shop music, and the relentless rain. Instead she'd spent all day trying to retrieve it.
But in one fleeting moments, the balloon finally escaped.
Looking up at it rising, the boy thought of grandpa and waved goodbye.