Mrs. Prescott was also there.
It was the first time she had entered such a bustling place.
The carousel rose and fell with the music, the Ferris wheel slowly ascending into the night sky.
She closely followed behind Walter Prescott, clutching the edge of her dress, afraid of getting lost.
At that time, the garden was filled with balloon vendors.
Lucia Prescott and Zeke Prescott tugged at their grandmother's coat, coyly begging to buy some.
Mrs. Prescott smiled and gave each of them one.
The sister sweetly said she wanted a pink one, and the brother clamored for a blue one.
With a kindly look in her eyes, grandma reached into her pocket, pulled out some change, and handed the balloons to them herself.
The two children laughed like blossoming flowers, bouncing off into the distance.
When it was her turn, she stood there, not daring to utter a word.
She lowered her head, twisting the corner of her dress with her fingers, her nails nearly digging into her palm.
