Renée went to the address. This was it. It was the end, the final destination.
She knocked at the door. It was a cream-coloured bungalow with a beautiful lawn filled with various flowers.
"Ah hello, how may I help you?" a middle aged lady with blue eyes asked.
"I'm Emma" she lied without hesitance.
"Uhh hi Emma and how may I help you?" she asked politely.
"Umm...I'm here for your son?"
"Oh okay, dear, come along. Mike, someone's here for you" she called up the stairs.
"Coming, Mom" a boyish voice replied.
Mr. Balloon had a name, Mike.
"Have a seat, Emma" she pointed towards the couch in the living room.
"So, you don't seem to be from around here and I saw you for the first time" she said as she rummaged through the shelves of the kitchen cabinet.
"I'm from Provence. Actually I..."
Suddenly, a guy with dark brown hair, about her height entered the living room.
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author's note
What do you think of the story so far?
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YOU ARE READING
One Balloon Away
Teen FictionJust 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...
