Balloon

Sometimes Mia stuffs a hangover into the basket of a hot air balloon and lets it float away over lush valleys. The shadow licking the land shrinks until it is but a prick in the pastures. It was a method taught to her by a voice on the end of a telephone when she called a helpline. “Let your worries float away,” said the do-gooder. The method brings to mind comforting middle-aged ladies with knitting needle tongues that click words into cosy pullovers. This can be enough to master the blues.

(Balloon image taken from the graphics fairy: http://graphicsfairy.blogspot.com/)