A Red Balloon, Too

Image of lit birthday candlesStill waiting for Dad, three days later, with enough kibble for Rocko, a half-full bag of birdseed for Raa, the heel of a pumpernickel for us. Mr. Stefan is sure to drum on the door today, squeezing out rent money.

“A friend owes me,” Dad kissed Mom, tousled my hair. “Might be a day or two.” Mom looked a lightning-bolt but kept quiet.

“Bet Dad will bring oranges, a steak, potatoes, a birthday cake with candles.”

Mom stares into the fridge again, takes out two eggs, puts one back. “Ketchup, root beer. I’ll fry this for you. I’m not hungry.”


Andrew Stancek‘s publications include SmokeLong Quarterly, FRIGG, Green Mountains Review, New World Writing, New Flash Fiction Review, and Jellyfish Review.

Photo Credit: Thomas Hawk

3 Responses to “A Red Balloon, Too”

  1. Ouch. You got me Andrew.

  2. Pamela Painter says:

    The title sings at the end.

  3. Effective. Love the build at the end.


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