Balloon Boy - Flash Fiction

Balloon Boy seemed to live his life on helium. His mind was light and soared to the vast expanse of a sky filled with impossibilities.

Balloon Boy was cheerful. Brightening any day that he seemed to float into, drifting across conversations until he found one that needed a little surprise happiness.

Balloon Boy was adventurous. Wandering to places he should not go, places his happy heart wasn't appreciated. Trying to illuminate the grimiest streets with his fluorescent joy.

Balloon Boy was wonderful.

Until someone burst him.

The Dead Hour

Nobody thought that an hour would make any difference. Nothing ever really happens between the hours of 7 and 8am, people wake up, have breakfast, get ready for the day and not much else.

It's a dead hour. One resigned specifically to work/school/appointment preparation, a grey slot of time where nothing significant ever really happens. And besides, these were students living in this hour, the only major event occurring in their lives between the hours of 7 and 8am were hangovers.

The night security team would leave at 6:50am, allowing enough time to lock up the office and do a final sweep of the outside facilities. The reception staff would once again bring life to the office at 8:02, allowing enough time to get their morning coffee exactly right.

Nobody could have anticipated the carnage that greeted them that morning, following the - rather aptly named - dead hour.

******

Trading in Grandma

"Hi there! How can I help you today miss?" The overly perky male attendent smiled expectantly into the defiantly flippy-fringed and overly made-up face, blatantly ignoring the slightly creased but still perfectly functional piece she was holding. 

"Uh yeah I'd like to trade in grandma." Her bored tone suggested the 'I couldn't care less' stage of her life was already in full swing, although the dark circles carefully drawn round her eyes implied the boredom was also very deliberately applied for show, she was the kind of customer that made this whole enterprise worthwhile. 

"Certainly, did you have anything in mind for the exchange?" The old lady at her side opened her mouth as if to suggest something, thought better of it, and kept quiet again, eyes averted. It was clear this kind of decision didn't involve her input and she would just be seen as a nuisance if she attempted to deliver it. 

"Well her original label was June, I was thinking some kind of variation of that?" The girl played a hard bargain, not giving all the answers, expecting the quality of service given to all of her friends before her most probably.