Mystery in Red
by: Robert Zimmerman

As I held myself there, dangling in midair, feeling a cool rush each time the breeze picked up, I felt that my hands would slip any second, that I'd be caught by a gust of wind and drift off into the now setting sun's warm glow and never have to be so afraid again. No such luck presented itself, however, and I clung to the balcony's railing for all my life was worth, panting in exasperation and attempting to forget my slickening, slackening grip of my fingers on the bars -

When I awoke that morning, I knew that no one could be more fortunate than I. I'd been able to sleep in a hotel. There obviously weren't too many kids who had done it, since I'd never heard anyone saying things about them before. I kept telling myself I that I was blazing the way for other children who might stumble into one of these wonderful establishments and I took it upon myself to abuse every service available once my parents left.

My curiosity led me to the most interesting thing of all, the room service button, and my experiment proved incredibly successful. While the people on the other end seemed skeptical of providing me any indulgences at first, my bawling quickly got the better of them and a tray of confectionary treats appeared at the door asking for a tip. The huge wooden door mocked me as I jumped and flailed my arms, trying to flip open the latch. Soon enough, though, I was turning the cold knob and poking my head out of the door. A young man in a dark red vest and matching pants stood there holding my tray. It seemed that he, not the tray had asked for this tip as I heard the words echo from his fur-outlined mouth. "My tip, uh... sir?"�
I contemplated the man and the situation for a moment, "Here's a tip: drop my tray and get lost!"�

The man chuckled and bent down to hand me the tray, knees cracking loudly as they reached half height, and informed me of the type of tip he was looking for. Realizing my mistake and trying to play the situation off coolly, I slowly dipped my hand into my pocket with a smile and he lowered the tray to the floor. I took his right hand, placed my prized paperclip in it, retrieved my tray, and calmly walked back into the room, closing the door behind me.

My treats lay in front of me in all their glazed, saccharine splendor, but I could not help but feel a slight malcontent. I missed Clippy - we'd had such good times together - I laid the tray on the sink in the bathroom and went back to the bed I'd slept in, drawing the covers over my head and bringing myself into a deep darkness where I could think - ponder why life had to be like this. Why had I given away my paperclipian friend? What had he done to deserve that?
And what was that wet, chewing sound?

My eyes widened in the darkness and I threw off the cover. The image of my brother slowly eating the pastry burned itself into my mind and I flew into a rampage. Darting out of the bed, I planted my elbow firmly in his gut, knocking him backwards and salvaging the remnants of my half-eaten memory. I felt a tap on my shoulder and recoiled, whacking my head on something hard. Slowly, I turned and saw my brother, with crimson cheeks and flaring eyes, stand up to his full height. My flight began instantaneously and, luckily, the glass door to the balcony was open. If only I can get over the railing before he gets to me, I can... My thoughts, a step behind my legs had led me to jump off of a second floor balcony and I writhed, grasping for anything to prevent the fall as my hot cheeks met a skin-prickling breeze.

And there I was, hanging off of the edge of the concrete balcony, seeing my brother fall to his knees with a slack jaw, watching a stray ant climbing vertically, zigzagging on its way to salvation, and letting my eyes focus on the glass. I saw two slate spheres and they pierced my soul. Their reflections seemed to frost over and, with them, my entire vision hazed. I felt my life ripple, saw reality bend, and one hand slipped free of its hold. A chain reaction began and my right arm was overburdened. I fell from the balcony; I saw it stretch farther and farther out of my reach. Where was my saving breeze? The sun disappeared, and I suddenly shivered.

I opened my eyes, not having remembered closing them, and found myself in the arms of a familiar red-vested man. He set me down and stared at me for a brief moment and, with an air of relief, plucked a shiny brass button off of his coat, and pressed it into my palm.
"A fair trade,"� he said, legs popping loudly as he stood and stepped backwards into the crowd.