The bubble burst.
It wasn't because of the sharp protruding twig of the lowest branch from the sycamore tree that had threatened to destroy the flimsy layer that held the being as one.
It didn't burst at the hands of the giggling child that stalked the bubble, jabbed his fingers left and right to kill the transparent bead in hopes of winning the title of a 'Bubble Tyrant'.
No. The bubble had floated out of the child's reach and the child had stopped giggling and had merely stared. He watched it rise past his sister's head and then past the roof of the garage. It floated higher still; it rose above the bathroom window on the first floor and above the roof and past the chimney, until the bubble was almost out of sight.
There, the child watched the bubble hover in place; the liquid pink and blue colors of iridescence shimmered for a few moments; and then the bubble burst.
The child grinned. The bubble had burst. It still counted.
Some people would say that the bubble burst because of the slight change in the atmospheric pressure. As the bubble flew higher, the atmospheric pressure had thinned. Though the change was minuscule, it was enough to shatter the delicate state of equilibrium in the bubble system. The air pressure that pushed out on the flimsy layer of soap became too great. So great that it pushed too much and the thin layer, not being sufficiently supported by the atmospheric pressure any longer, simply disintegrated.
Or so some people would say.
But I know better. I heard the sound of the joyous pop.
The feeling of triumph that came from overcoming the tyrant when none of the other bubbles had, the feeling of joy from coming free, had overflowed. The bubble cound't- didn't want to hold it in anymore. It wanted to share it with the world (The bubble knew how much the world needed it). It wanted to make a difference, initiate a smile.
And so, without further hesitation, the bubble had burst.
A/N: Inspired by the song Penelope by Pinback.