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Tessa Webster believed three things: life was too short for bad coffee, New York looked better from a thousand feet up, and anyone who said they weren't scared on their first balloon flight was a liar. Twenty years of piloting had taught her that much.

'Second flight of the day.' She took another sip from her travel mug and checked her watch. Two PM. Perfect conditions – the November wind had settled into that sweet spot between too much and not enough. Her morning group had been a family of four from Minnesota. Now, it was just her and one passenger. 'Nothing like an afternoon ascent.'

The girl stood by the basket with fancy phone in hand. She was staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe. Kids these days didn't know how to be present. Always one eye on their screens, like they might miss out on some earth-shattering meme if they looked up for more than five seconds. The girl introduced herself as Hermes, which had made Tessa raise an eyebrow. ‘Like the Greek god?’ she’d asked.

‘Family name.’ The girl – maybe twenty-two, twenty-three – wore expensive hiking gear that had never seen a trail. ‘My parents were… weird.’

Now, Tessa asked, ‘First time flying?’ Tessa made sure her smile was extra reassuring. Nervous passengers were part of the job. Her unofficial title was chief anxiety wrangler.

‘First time in a balloon. I've been on planes before.’ Hermes shuffled her feet, scraping patterns in the dirt with her sneaker. Some unreadable symbol, there and gone. ‘Is it really safe?’

Tessa chuckled. ‘Safest way to fly, statistically speaking. No wings to stall out, no engines to fail. Just good old-fashioned hot air.’ She patted the burner affectionately. ‘Though I always say, if God meant us to fly, He'd have given us wings.’

That earned her a flicker of a smile. ‘I thought the saying was, if God meant us to fly, He wouldn't have invented airplanes.’

Smart kid. ‘Different strokes.’ Tessa gestured at the balloon towering over them, a riot of red and yellow nylon big enough to swallow a house. ‘Ready to go over the safety briefing?’

Hermes nodded and pocketed her phone. Progress .

‘Alright.’ Tessa switched to instructor mode. ‘See that propane tank? We use that to heat the air inside the envelope - that's the balloon part. Hot air rises because it's less dense than the cold air around it. Basic physics. Get enough hot air in there and up we go.’

‘Just like that?’

'Just like that. Though there's a bit more to it.' Tessa approached the basket. The wicker creaked under her hand. 'First, we do our pre-flight checks. Everything has to be perfect up there because the nearest mechanic is about five thousand feet down.'

Tessa walked Hermes through the checklist. Envelope inspection first - checking the fabric for tears or weak spots. Then the crown ring where all the load-bearing lines connected. Flying wires next. The burner system got special attention because, as Tessa liked to tell her passengers, fire was a great servant but a terrible master.

‘These are the blast valves.’ She indicated the brass fixtures. ‘They control how much propane reaches the burner. Too little and we sink. Too much and we shoot up faster than your stomach might like.’

Hermes nodded, but her attention kept drifting to her phone. Tessa recognized that particular strain of distraction. Some drama playing out in the digital world, probably. Young love or social media chaos or whatever consumed the younger generation today.

‘Temperature gauge here.’ Tessa tapped the instrument panel. ‘Altimeter. Variometer for measuring climb and descent rates. Navigation's mostly visual but we keep GPS as backup. Always remember: flying is like pregnancy. Always have a Plan B.’

That usually got a laugh. Today was an exception. Tessa guessed that the sense of humor in Hermes’ family had skipped a generation.

‘Just need to check the fuel lines one more time.’ Tessa set her coffee down inside the basket. ‘Back in two shakes.’

Hermes managed another ghost of a smile. She'd thaw out once they got airborne. Most passengers did. Hard to stay sullen with the world unrolling beneath you like a patchwork quilt.

She circled behind the basket where the reserve fuel tanks nestled in their brackets. Everything looked good, but you didn't stay alive in this business by assuming. She tested each connection, checked the pressure gauges, verified the emergency release mechanism. The tank's reflection showed her own face - wind-chapped skin, hair pulled back in a practical braid, eyes that had seen too many sunrises to count .

She gave each connection a practiced tug, feeling for any give or wiggle room. Nothing moved that wasn't supposed to. Chalk up another point for routine maintenance.

‘Almost ready, old girl?’ The balloon didn't answer. They never did. That was partly why Tessa spent her days in one.

She ambled back towards the basket, already envisioning the slow climb, the hushed glide over treetops and farmland. No matter how many times she flew, that thrill of lifting off never got old. Like a fist unclenching inside her chest.

But something was off.

Hermes wasn't hovering near the basket where Tessa had left her. She was pacing in tight circles, phone pressed to her ear. The hand not holding the phone was balled up in her hoodie pocket.

Tessa frowned. Not the time for a chat with the boyfriend or whatever TikTok drama was unfolding on the grapevine today.

She cleared her throat as she approached. ‘Everything alright?’

Hermes whirled around fast enough to send her ponytail whipping. Her eyes were wide and glassy, like she wasn't quite seeing what was in front of her.

‘Yes...no...’ She shook her head as if to clear it. ‘I'm sorry, it's just...’

Her phone buzzed again, insistent. Hermes glanced at it and then back at Tessa. Her mouth worked, but no words came out.

Tessa softened her tone. The girl looked spooked all of a sudden, more than regular pre-flight jitters.

'Hey, if you're having second thoughts, no worries. Happens to the best of us.' She tried for a reassuring smile. 'We can always reschedule. The weather's supposed to be perfect all week.'

Hermes just stared at her, then a single, shuddering sob escaped her lips. Tessa's heart lurched. Maybe this poor girl just had a real bad fear of heights. After a long moment that felt like an hour, Hermes found her voice.

‘My uncle… they found him in a hole. In a quarry outside of town.’

Icy fingers walked down Tessa's spine. She knew the case. Hard not to, with the way the news had been blaring about it nonstop. Local professor found dead under mysterious circumstances. Messed up stuff. The kind of thing you read about happening to other people in other places. Not here. Not to someone you knew.

She wet her lips as she searched for the right words. ‘I'm so sorry. Were you close with him?’

‘Yes. I saw him all the time. Now he’s…. gone. ’

Gone. Such a simple word for such a big, ugly thing.

Tessa nodded slowly. She knew a thing or two about sudden loss. She was surprised she could still make her pregnancy joke after everything she’d been through. ‘Do you need to be with your folks right now? I can radio the office, have someone drive you home.’

Hermes shook her head again, ponytail lashing. ‘My mom's place is just down the road. I can walk.’

‘You sure?’ Tessa couldn't imagine being alone after news like that. Death of natural causes was one thing. Falling onto some rocks was another. But grief wore different faces, she guessed. Who was she to tell this kid how to wear hers?

‘Yeah.’ Hermes swiped at her eyes with the back of one gloved hand. ‘You should still fly though. Don't let me ruin your day too.’

Tessa's instinct was to protest. To insist on driving the girl home herself, or at least calling her a cab. But something in Hermes's expression stopped her. A brittle kind of determination, like she might crack clean through if pushed too hard.

So she just nodded. ‘If you're sure. I do need to get the old girl in the air. Need to fly at least ten hours a week to keep my pilot’s license.’

It was a white lie but a necessary one. The balloon did need to fly – she had to transit it to a festival three counties over by nightfall. But Hermes didn't need to know the specifics. Better to let her believe she was doing Tessa a favor.

The girl managed a wobbly smile. ‘Thanks. For understanding.’

‘Of course.’ Tessa fought the urge to hug her. She kept her distance, respecting the clear desire for space. ‘You take care of yourself, okay? And if you ever want to reschedule that flight, just give the office a call. It's on the house.’

‘I will. Thanks again.’

And with that, Hermes was striding across the field with her shoulders hunched like she was trying to fold in on herself. Tessa watched her until she disappeared over a hill, feeling like she'd just watched a car crash in slow motion. There was a reason she preferred flying to driving.

With a sigh, she turned back to the balloon. The show must go on and all that. She'd radio the office once she was airborne, let them know about the situation. Maybe they could comp the girl a voucher for a free flight down the line. A little good karma never hurt .

She hauled herself into the basket and began the final flight checks. Fuel gauge, check. Altimeter, check. GPS and radio, double check. She ran through the sequence on autopilot.

Time to fly. Tessa guessed it was just her and her thermos of coffee for the next two hours.

There were worse ways to spend a Wednesday afternoon, she reasoned, but Tessa knew she’d be thinking of that poor girl the whole flight.