George had never seen such a balloon. So many colors. They twined around the balloon as it spun. He tugged on Father’s coat pocket. Father looked down, a frown creasing his brow; perhaps wishing that, just once, George would speak. George pointed at the balloon.
Father pulled his worn wallet out and went over to speak to the balloon-man. He came back and took George’s hand, placing the balloon in the other. As they walked, George watched the balloon bounce at the end of the string. Smiling, he opened his hand and watched the stripes soar off.
“Bye,” he whispered.