"'One time when we'd gone to the fair, I must have been five, six, a little younger than Luke I guess, the balloon I had gotten there just slipped out of my hand.' Her right hand came off the wheel to demonstrate, fingers curled around air as though the loss was new. She shrugged. 'I cried and wouldn't move, watching it go up. My mom finally told me that it was good luck to let go of balloons, that they carried away sad thoughts.'
He smiled. 'And you believed that?'
'It shut me up.'
Click yellow balloon to read