Dead Hours — Out of Reach, Page 6
By Suha · Published
Log in to see this page
Page 6 of Out of Reach is for signed-in readers. Logging in brings you straight back here — and an account is free if you do not have one.
Transcript
The tracksuit regular — tall, shaved head, grey zip-up tracksuit, clear plastic bag of empty cans — comes in from the rain. Kaito points up at the balloon. KAITO: 'Excuse me — can you reach that?' The regular looks up, unbothered. REGULAR: 'Leave it. Helium goes, it comes down.' KAITO: 'When?' He shrugs and heads off with his bag of cans. REGULAR: 'Day. Maybe two.' KAITO: 'Can't have this thing floating for two days.' Rin films. RIN: 'Expert says: a day. Maybe two.'
Image description
The tall, shaved-head tracksuit regular looks up at the balloon and tells Kaito to just leave it.
About this chapter
3 A.M., rain on the dead-hours store. A tipsy salaryman celebrating a promotion buys a single beer and, on his way out, lets the string of his shiny silver star balloon slip from his wrist — it rises to the ceiling and he wanders off into the rain, oblivious. Kaito, unable to bear a stray thing loose in his airspace and certain the happy stranger will want his balloon back, declares quiet war on getting it down before the morning delivery, spiraling over how long helium even lasts — a fact nobody can verify. All night he reaches for it to the identical dead-eyed beat of his fingers, then a broom, then a wobbling crate falling an inch short as the balloon drifts just out of reach and he mutters '...missed.' A ladder of night-shift regulars each give a different unverifiable verdict — the tracksuit regular says leave it, it'll come down in a day, maybe two; the drunk owner returns only for his umbrella and doesn't remember owning a balloon at all; a cheerful jogger insists helium lasts exactly one day. Rin quietly livestreams the whole vigil as 'Man vs Balloon,' with one flicker of near-sincerity — that he's the only person alive who'd try to save a drunk stranger's balloon, and it's kind of sweet — before raising her phone again. Near dawn, hollow and defeated, Kaito finally stops reaching and sinks to the floor, hands open — and the balloon, its helium spent, sinks on its own and settles gently into his open hand, the running beat inverting into a rare genuine almost-smile. But when he turns to return it, the owner left hours ago and never wanted it. Then the reveal Rin planted in the first minute pays off: she tied a near-invisible fishing thread to the balloon's string the instant it rose and steered it just out of his reach all night — every '...missed' was her, and it made great content. Her 'Man vs Balloon' hits four hundred thousand viewers. Unable to bear a rescued thing nobody wants, Kaito moves to keep it — and Rin plucks it from his fingers for her outro. Kaito is left with an empty upturned hand; he gets nothing. Dawn light fills the spotless store exactly as the night began — and up against the ceiling a fresh silver star balloon already bobs where the last one was, Rin's phone already raised, already live.