Every year the harbour town launched balloons painted like fish, pears, dragons and teapots. Everyone loved the spectacle except Mina, whose family’s balloon never left the grass. It was beautiful, stitched with stars, but stubborn as a sleeping cow.
On launch day, Mina dropped her picnic into the basket and spilled cracked pepper across the burner. The heat lifted a burst of fragrance into the silk envelope above them. The balloon trembled, sighed, and rose faster than any balloon in the field.
From above, Mina saw the town become a table setting: white boats, red roofs, blue bowls of water. Her family’s balloon won no official prize, because nobody had a category for 'best seasoned flight', but every year after, spectators brought pepper grinders to help the sky remember how to lift.