There's a Balloon on the Ceiling

Someone had lost their balloon.
I could see it on the unreachable ceiling, unmoving, sagging, deflating. I thought about the child that had lost it; its small hand squeezed tightly around the thin ribbon. Smiling ear to ear, ice cream cone in the empty hand, face smeared in chocolate and vanilla, good enough to eat, they walk towards the door.
Then distracted, (As all children tend to get) they drop the ice cream. Desperate to salvage the sweet treat they let go, and up the balloon went. Oh how they cried. But what could the mother and father do? It was beyond their reach and they had run out of pocket change. They check their watches and their phones, discussing while their child wailed. It was a lose, lose situation, they had to get to Grandma’s by three and they had to swing by the store to get dinner.
Kicking and screaming, the child was dragged through the door. Everyone turned to stare, following is cries towards the ceiling and feeling pangs of pity but going about their daily business. The child reached out for the balloon as if they might be able to get it but it was just out of their reach. The ice cream the child had enjoyed was now on the floor and being mixed with dirty mop water. As the glass doors closed behind them the child cried one last time.
Or maybe it wasn’t a child at all.
Young lovers were walking hand in hand through the rows and rows of shops, looking but never buying. Having it been a Thursday they both had yet to get their allowances. He saw the balloon and thought she may like it. As she fiddled around with her purse trying to find that change she had for her favorite gum he paid the cashier. It was then that he thought about the trip to the vending machine he was going to make with the change and cursed himself for not thinking about his mandatory Mountain Dew.
None the less the girl took it, trying to contain her disappointment. She had had her eyes on the plastic ring displayed on the coin candy machine by the door but since it was the first gift that he had given her on a whim she accepted it. The end of their date loomed before them. Two hours had seemed to pass so quickly when they were together. The girl’s phone buzzed; her father was waiting out side in the snow.
Before putting on her jacket the young couple turned towards each other. She could seem him in a slim black tux, walking up the isle, ring in hand. While both their families watched from the church pews gleaming and herself waiting by the priest, veil hiding her rapidly beating heart. Their eyes met as he thought about the nachos he wanted to eat when he got home. He could see the cheese just melting into the nachos in the microwave. Trying to remember whether or not he had some pickled jalapeños he returned her gaze.
Their lips met, in that awkward way that all young couples find themselves kissing. Not really sure what to do, uncertain how far to go. She lets go of the balloon, letting it float gently up towards the ceiling and moved towards him, wanting more. As they stepped closer together his phone buzzed. They separated, almost too soon.
He opened his phone. It was a text. She saw the name, she saw the message.
He really wished he had gotten his Mountain Dew.
I look up at the ceiling and see the balloon, still and wrinkled. My heart pangs with pity. I look over to my friend, “There’s a balloon on the ceiling.” I say, pointing up.
She follows my finger and looks at it a bit, “That’s sad.” She finally says.
I shrugged, “I guess we’ll never know.”