Renée had bought as many of her personal possessions as possible in her backpack including souvenirs, trinkets, rings, photographs and anything that would remind people of her. She didn't want people to look at her things and become sad. She didn't want to leave a haunted presence behind. She wished to blend into the wind that blew during the afternoon, the river water that drifted calmly down the valley, the sand which sweeped over the desert.
She disguised herself, failing horribly with a pair of sunglasses, retrieved from her backpack including a scarf which looked rather odd in the summer heat. But she had cut her long hair to shoulder length, she didn't mind it in the least bit, it only finalized her departure. Renée sighed in relief to find she had a few bills of ten euros tucked into the side pocket of her backpack. Balloons were filled with air, but were damn expensive, at least for her current state.
YOU ARE READING
One Balloon Away
JugendliteraturJust when eighteen-year-old Renée Martin is about to commit suicide, an unexpected note meant for someone else leads her to the city she has always dreaded, Paris. Join her on this disastrous journey as she struggles with self-esteem, anxiety and th...
