They bumped into each other near a bridge. A tour of bicyclists created a draft that sent the pink balloon whirling up into a tree, where its string became tangled among the branches.

The small ghost looked on in dismay. Over the decades, she’d grown accustomed to watching earthly affairs play out and being unable to help. But this was different—this time she might be able to do something about it.

She made her way over to the tree and assessed the situation. It wasn’t dire; the balloon’s path was just impeded. A bit of wind would do the trick.

The small ghost wound up carefully, then twirled herself vigorously in hopes of generating enough of an effect on the air around her. She checked and—success! Whether it was her spinning or a passing breeze was unimportant. The balloon was free.

“Hello!” she called out.

The balloon said nothing.

“Would you like to be my friend?”

It floated closer to her, which she took as an affirmative.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

No response.

“Don’t have a name? That’s okay. I don’t either. I mean, I’m sure I did once, but who knows now, right? So!” she said, feeling lighter than she had in some time. “What do you think? Shall we have an adventure?”

In response, the balloon floated higher.

“Well, alright then! Lead the way, friend!”

The small ghost followed, and slowly they started on their way. The balloon didn’t move quite as quickly as she usually did, but it flew high: they could see for miles as they drifted over cities and fields, rivers and mountains and patchwork squares of farmland. At one point, they passed a flock of hot air balloons, arrayed in brightly colored diamonds and stripes.

“Do you think that’s what you’ll be when you grow up?” she asked with a delighted laugh.

The balloon simply continued on in silence. Almost as if it were searching for something. The small ghost knew how that felt. She’d been searching like that for a very long time. But now she had found what she was looking for. and she would do whatever it took to help her friend find whatever it sought, too. She didn’t bother to ask what it was, just followed along and scoured the ground for anything that looked like something a pink balloon might need.

As the hours passed, she noticed her friend flagging.

“Would you like to take a little nap?” she asked. “I guess I wouldn’t mind that, myself. It’s pretty sunny today, and I think a nice, shady spot in that garden there will be just right for a quick snooze.”

As they descended, it struck her that the balloon looked quite dejected. Perhaps—perhaps it wouldn’t want to be her friend anymore, if it couldn’t find what it was looking for.

“I know it’s hard,” she whispered. “You start to feel so sad. It seems like you’ll never find the thing you want. But you will. I did. I promise you’ll find it, too. Let’s just keep looking.”

Despite her encouragement, her friend came to rest on the roots of a tree in front of a great, sprawling house. It was possible to die from a broken heart; she knew that much. Maybe she could find whatever the balloon was looking for and bring it back here. But how could she do that when the balloon wouldn’t even tell her what it was?

“Please don’t give up,” she urged. “I will be here for the rest of existence. Will you leave me so soon?”

She did her best to conjure a bit of wind to buoy it up, but with no success. It rolled a bit from side to side, but it couldn’t seem to muster the strength to rise from the ground.

“Then I will stay here with you,” she cried. “Because this is what friends do, isn’t it? They stay with each other. Especially when one is in trouble. They stay with each other and they help each other. No matter what.”

She settled next to the balloon as the light faded, speaking softly to it. Even when it grew too dark to see the balloon, she stayed.

“I’m still here, friend,” she said into the darkness. “Don’t worry. I’m still here.”