I have a shiny red envelope filled with a small wad of cash, glittering notions of all the things I can use it to buy—a Super Nintendo game or a rare postage stamp from the former Zaire for my collection—and my parents aren’t screaming at each other for a change. I am dining on lobster at the Grand Mandarin tonight. There’s a karaoke bar downstairs that’s always closed like a darkened motel and next to it is a koi pond with a small waterfall and a miniature mountain landscape that evokes dreams of old China. After dinner I sit on the footbridge that crosses the little pond pretending to be a giant who lives a peaceful life in that mountain valley, content to quietly listen and observe everything around me. The red envelope glows through my pocket, a reminder of the material comforts to come. The disposable placemats printed with the Chinese zodiac all say that the rabbit is the luckiest of the signs. I don’t know if that describes me, but I’m certainly the happiest, if not the loneliest a child can be.
Eliot S. Ku is a physician who lives in New Mexico with his wife and two children. His writing has appeared in a handful of online literary journals, including Maudlin House, Carmen et Error, Roi Faineant Press, Whiskey Tit, HAD, and Call Me Brackets.
Lost Balloon 