It's a beautiful spring morning; the temperature just right. She stands alone in a breeze that's almost stiff enough to cause a chill, but not quite.
Her tiny hand clutches a ribbon that leads up to a single red balloon. It moves in sync with her pigtails in the wind.
She grasps tightly to her coveted possession while struggling internally with the decision to hold on or let go. If she holds on, she can own it forever with no need to keep its memory alive, though it will never look the same. If she lets go, she can watch delightedly from the ground as the wind sweeps it away high above the tree-tops, into the sky, becoming smaller and smaller until it is just a distant red dot; then nothing.
The wind picks up. She tightens her grip and holds on until her tiny hand hurts. She struggles to keep a fist. The battle continues as her strength subsides. She rethinks her options as her tiny hand cramps.
She can't hold on any longer. The wind immediately takes hold of the single red balloon and whisks it away into the distance. She watches from the ground; half smiling, half crying. She holds her tiny hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. The single red balloon drifts further and further into the distance until it is merely a red dot; then nothing.
And then, life goes on.
Whatever did you come here for?
You've over-stayed your welcome.
Let me see you out.
