Prompt Story

The Red Balloon

He would do anything for the woman he loved.

The Red Balloon. Image by ChatGPT.

It flies in the air. Moves with the wind. Like a red balloon.

I look into your windows. I see you watching the news on TV. I see you get ready for bed. I see you when you turn off the light. I watch you sleep.

I watch you because I care about you.

I care about you because I dream about a future where we’re together.

During the day, I work.

I worked at the coffee shop on the corner of the building where you work on the 2nd floor.

You came in every morning and ordered two coffees. One latte with oatmilk and one black. No sugar.

I tried to be the one to serve you.

I smiled at you. You smiled at me.

I wish I had the nerve to ask you out for a coffee. It would give myself away, and if you said no, you wouldn’t smile at me again, and if you ever saw me elsewhere, you would think I was a creep.

I’m not.

I’m a man in love.

I remember the first time I met you. You were in a lovely summer dress. I was in my delivery shorts carrying a package for the office you work in.

You held the elevator for me, and as we both got out on the same floor, you looked at me and smiled at me for the first time.

“Can I help you?”

I gave you the package, and you signed my screen, “Samanta Moor.”

It was love at first sight. For me.

Two days later, I got fired from the job, and I noticed the sign in the window of the café, “We are hiring.”

The next morning, you entered and ordered your coffees. You didn’t recognise me, but I saw you the second your hand touched the door.

You took the bus to work every morning and the bus home every afternoon.

I applied for a job as a bus driver in the afternoon. I got a uniform, and I got to pick my favourite route to serve.

I didn’t always get assigned to Route 5, that was the one you took, but I did get it a few times every week. Those were the best days, seeing you in the morning and driving you home in the afternoon.

You never noticed it was me both times. It is cute how inattentive you can be.

I knew what street you got off. One day, I saw the house you walked into. Another day, I watched you go shopping at the supermarket close to the bus stop.

Then you stopped using the bus. I felt like I lost the battle, but I knew I would fight, not to lose you.

Some months later, I saw the sign your neighbour put up saying “Apartment for rent.”

We became neighbours, and I was sitting on the first floor in a tiny apartment, but with a view over your garden.

I got a job at the supermarket and focused on that. When you came in, I would drop everything else and focus on serving you.

We became friends.

“You can just drop off your shopping list, and I will bring it home with me when I get off work,” I offered.

You looked a little confused, but that amazing smile appeared on your face when I told you that I was your new neighbour.

I remember the Saturday when you were washing your windows. I watched you from my window and could see you were in pain. I pretended to go for a walk and stopped, asking you if there was a problem.

“I sprained my wrist earlier. Nothing serious, I’ll be okay,” you said.

“Let me do the windows. I don’t mind at all, and you should rest that wrist so it will heal better.”

I was happy to do this for you. You invited me in for a coffee, and we talked a little. If anything, I loved you even more after that.

That was when I bought it and named it The Red Balloon even though it wasn’t red.

I made sure you were safe and comfortable.

I looked in on you as a mother on her child. Just to make sure.

I learned what food you had most often. I know what TV show you loved and what news upsets you the most.

I made sure you never had to worry about anything. Like the one time, when you had been struggling with your bills, I took one of your bills and paid it for you.

Or I accidentally added a few extra items to your shopping bag that I paid for, so you didn’t need to be without your oatmilk.

You asked me, but I just said I had taken it by mistake and to please not tell anyone, as it would bring me into trouble.

We helped each other that way.

I also remember the night when The Red Balloon saw smoke coming out of your kitchen window. You had forgotten the popcorn you were making, and I ran over, hammering your door.

You thanked me but didn’t understand how I even saw it. I had to tell you I was out having a cigarette.

We met daily at that point and usually had a little chat before you would go inside and close your door, and I would go home and launch The Red Balloon.

I bought you flowers.

Told you it was because I thought it was your birthday, but as it wasn’t, please take them anyway, so they wouldn’t be wasted.

I knocked on your door late to borrow a cup of milk for my coffee, and you would be happy you could do something for me.

That was when I asked you on a date.

“We can do that,” you responded.

We had dinner and an evening of talking and being together.

We went on other dates. Usually, I would come up with ideas for us to do at the weekends, and you often said yes.

“I’m free, so that is okay,” you would answer.

After a long day out, I watched you later at night and knew you had fun during the day.

After a day at the park, you gave me your first kiss on the cheek.

I saw you writing in your diary. Even with The Red Balloon almost against the window, I couldn’t read it.

When you leaned back for a moment, I caught a few words. “Reservation.” “Trying too hard.” “I need space.” It had to be about us.

I can change. I stopped coming around every day. Giving you space and not trying so hard.

I stopped asking for dates, but I kept The Red Balloon in the air for your protection.

Weeks later, I asked you for another date as I had read about a new restaurant.

You told me you thought you had done something wrong. I told you you can always be yourself with me.

I pushed forward and backed off and kept you close all the time.

I watched you when you wrote longer pieces in your diary, thinking you might have missed me when you did that. That was my clue to ask you on a new date.

It took months, but one day at the park you took my hand, and I didn’t let go of it before we came home.

I was deeply in love with you. I told you so.

I knew you had doubts, but that was good. I can work with doubt.

One night it became late, and as we were watching a movie, you fell asleep. I carried you to bed and closed the door silently.

I found your diary in a drawer in the living room. I read your words about your feelings and why you didn’t say them to me.

I understood. It is not to be taken lightly to fall in love. You felt good with me, but something bothered you.

I made notes.

Last night, The Red Balloon was watching you. I could look at you for hours, no matter what you are doing.

I took on my biggest challenge and cooked you a meal worthy of Gordon Ramsay.

I bought you the sexiest silk outfit I could find as a present, and I decorated your living room with as many red flowers as I could find.

That night we had our first night together.

You still had doubts, but I knew doubts disappear when people finally let themselves be happy.

I knew what I would find when I undressed you, but being able to touch you made all the difference.

I found heaven.

You wrote you still weren’t sure whether you loved me. That made me happy, as I knew what I needed to do.

This is my attempt to think about a balloon. Somehow it changed form during the writing, but that is what happens.

This is a story submitted to this prompt

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