Sprinting full speed, I feel the wind begin to pick up and drag my hair off of my shoulders. "Faster, go faster!" He yells over my shoulder causing me to pick up speed. The helium in the balloons begins to raise my arms higher than I can control. I can't help but giggle as I feel my body being slowly picked up off the ground. For what can possibly he a third of a fourth of a twenty-fifth of a second, I know that I am in the air.
With a snap, my body falls to the ground, an aching feels echoing through the veins of my limbs.
He runs over to hover over me, camera in his hand and a worried look upon his face. "Juliet, you alright?" He calmly questions staring down at me.
"Did you get your shot?" I smile still squeezing onto all ninety-nine red balloons that are necessary for him to capture an image of the dream he dreamt in the car this morning.
Prince shakes his head, "No, I don't think so..."
Hopping back onto my feet, I shake my messy bangs out of my face. "Again!" I smile as he dusts grass off of my skirt. "Try to get it this time, would you? I want to take a picture of you doing it too. Maybe it'll work sinc–"
"Don't."
Since you're a little smaller than I.
Blowing air through my lips leaves them buzzing as I silence myself upon his request. "I'm ready when you are, I think the wind is about to pick up." I innocently chirp.
"What's it say, Susan?"
His employee stares down at her device. "Twenty-five miles per hour..." she reads aloud, "It's about to change direction soon. We might want to hurry up." Susan stares back up at Prince. He glances over at me and to give me a look. The look signals that he's ready to take another shot at this. It won't be long before the sun is completely set and slowly falls down to introduce us to the night.
I let out a hefty breath. "Okay," is all I say as I walk back to my original standing spot. The things we do for our artistic visions. He posts up next to Susan in his original position. Swiping a stray peace of hair from his ponytail, I watch the feather that hangs from his hair swing. He stares up at me awaiting my signal. "I'm ready."
"Twenty-eight miles per hour," Susan announces.
