Water Balloon

A single water balloon sitting in the middle of the sidewalk catches my attention. Bright red, and ready to burst on the first thing it hits. I could just walk past it, like everyone else, but it's calling me. How did it get to the middle of downtown? There's nothing but people walking around dressed for business, myself included.

I come to a stop as I reach an arm's length of the water balloon. For a moment, I think, ponder, should I take it? Step on it? Just leave it alone. I settle on picking it up. The warm latex feels comfortable in my hand as the water wraps around the gaps of my fingers. I instantly recall a memory of a large water balloon fight the local library hosted. It was good to be a kid. If only I had known those times wouldn't last forever, I would have savored them more.

The strange looks I'm getting don't really bother me. Just holding the water balloon is fun to me. I pretend I'm going to launch it at a few of the people who give me dirty looks, but I wouldn't do that. Even if I'm leaving work, they might be going in, can't explain that to the boss once inside. I guess hitting strangers with water balloons is a bad thing to do anyway.

Warm water washes over my face before I realize I've been hit by a water balloon. A group of kids stand at an alleyway with a bucket of balloons, gazing, wondering how I'll react. For a moment, I'm not sure what the right call is here. I don't have kids, do I yell at them?

"Who did it," I call out. 

Instantly the tallest points to a red haired boy with glasses. I wind up and toss it at the tall kid for telling on his friend. I make my way over the the stunned group, they're clearly expecting some kind of lecture. I find another balloon has seemingly found its way into my hand.

"Who's next," I ask causing the kids to scurry.

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