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A short story I started a while ago and never finished… The pink balloon hadn’t popped despite it being nearly ten thousand feet off the ground. A scientific impossibility and yet, a magical reality. Terry reached out for the string, but a huff of wind shot it wobbling out of his grasp and his fingers…
Amy was a middle child. I specify this because it’s integral to what happens in this story. You see, Amy, like most middle children, had the habit of getting herself in unlikely situations, then hoping that some family member or random do-gooder would intervene and save her life. All princesses caught in towers or imprisoned…