Wilbur told himself he just wanted fresh air.

That’s what he said when he bought the ticket. When he drove forty minutes out to the hill. When he stood with his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, half-listening to the announcer talk about lift-off schedules while the crowd buzzed around him.

It wasn’t a lie. He did want air. He just… didn’t know it was going to feel like this much of it.

Too much sky. Too much space between him and everyone else.

He looked around. Couples holding hands. Kids pointing. Friends taking selfies, laughing over cups of cider and the smell of fried sugar.

He shifted his weight. Exhaled sharply through his nose. Stared up at the sky like he was waiting to feel small enough to belong in it.

That’s when he saw you.

You were walking slowly, like the wind might blow you off-course if you rushed. Hood half-on, half-off, cotton candy clutched to your chest like a fragile cloud. Your balloon bounced behind you—a giant red one, heart-shaped and loud and full of joy you didn’t say out loud.

You didn’t notice him.

You just floated by. Soft and self-contained. Like your own little weather system.

He stared. Blinked. And then looked away. Embarrassed by how much he wanted to keep watching.

He was halfway through pretending to check the time when he heard footsteps again.

You stopped right in front of him.

Wilbur looked up—and nearly forgot how to breathe.

You said nothing. Just stood there.

Then you leaned forward, took his left wrist gently in your hand, and tied the red balloon’s string around it.

A simple knot. Nothing flashy. But your fingers were warm and your touch was careful. Deliberate.

You looked up at him just once. Big eyes. Calm face. And then turned.

Walked away.

Didn’t say a single word.

Wilbur stood there, stunned, as the balloon bounced gently above him. It swayed with the wind like it knew something he didn’t.

He stared at the string. Noticed something tiny scrawled along the ribbon in faded black ink.

Slowly, he lifted it. Turned it to the light.

You looked like you needed a little color today, here's a balloon and my number. Call it, or don't, but smile more, yeah? – 🎈

He didn’t smile.

He grinned. Stupidly. Helplessly. Completely.