The Balloon

         In the never-ending garden, Alice was alone with her balloon. It lay in her hand, vacant of air. The supple rubber allowed her to stretch it into large red sheets that let the sun shine through, making her face glow pink when she held it up to the light. She would try to fit her hand inside, wiggling her fingers around, feeling the balloon pull taught, her fingernails disappearing in the red skin as it moved like a ripple in a pond. She smiled.
"What have you got there?"
         Alice looked up and there was a boy, his hands behind his back. She went shy.
"It's my balloon," she said quietly.
         The boy tilted his head. "That's a balloon?" he asked. 'It looks more like a turkey's gobble."
         Alice blushed. "I don't mind," she said. "I quite like it."
"Well," the boy said, putting his hands on his hips. "I bet you it would be a lot more fun if it was filled."
         Alice blinked.
"What do you mean?"
         Looking up at the sky, the boy smiled. "I mean, fill it up with air so it's big and round. It's much more fun that way."
         Alice shrugged.
"I don't know how..."
"Here, I'll show you."
         And with that the boy grabbed the balloon from her hand and put it to his mouth. He wrapped the opening of the red sack around his lips and inhaled deeply, his chest raised. Closing his eyes, he blew into the balloon. The noise of the air hitting the rubber made a wet, shrill sound. Saliva gathered around the opening of the balloon and the boy's face started turning red. Before long, the balloon was plump and thin.
"That was a lot quicker than I anticipated," she said, frowning slightly.
         The boy's cheeks were still bright and he was beaming at her as he handed the balloon back to Alice.
"There you go, now you can tie it up and play with it."
         And with that, he left.
         Alice stood there, alone again, the damp orifice tight between her fingers. She looked down at the balloon; its red skin was thinner than before and nearly transparent with use. Dragging a finger across the rubber, a high-pitched shriek erupted from the balloon. Alice cringed sharply and let go of the balloon. It whizzed downward like a broken plane as the screeching echoed into the deepest corners of the garden. Upon reaching the ground, Alice noticed how much it really did look like a turkey's gobble, just as the boy had said. It was smaller and saggier than before though, moist and bent out of shape. It lay there motionless. There was no more happiness to be found in the balloon.
         Alice felt her chest fill with a dark emptiness as she stood over the remains, feeling more alone than she was before.