Member-only story
BALLOON PROMPT STORY
The Stranger With the Blue Balloon
Some truths choose their own witnesses.
The stranger held out the balloon before he offered me a greeting.
"Would you mind?" he asked.
I looked from the blue balloon to his face.
"Why?"
"You'll need both hands eventually."
It was an odd thing to say before nine o’clock on a Tuesday morning. His shoes were still damp from the rain that had passed before dawn. As he waited for my answer, he absentmindedly worked a twist from the balloon string with his thumb. A faint scar crossed one of his knuckles, pale enough to suggest it had been there for years.
"I think you've mistaken me for someone else," I said.
"No."
His smile was small, almost apologetic.
"I've never met you before."
"I know."
Something in the way he said it kept me from walking away. The bench beside him was empty. I sat at the far end, leaving enough space for caution.
A barista from the café across the square hurried past carrying a tray of takeaway cups.
