Piteous

*The circus lights burst into bright flashes. The tent, enormous and tired with age, swayed in the night wind. Inside, the murmur of the audience mingled with the creaking of drums, acrobats swung overhead, barely held by the rope. The host raised his voice as he narrated the show, astonishing the audience. Amid applause, the spectacle continued; the place was filled with magic and laughter. But not everything could be perfect, at least not for one person. Piteous, one of the clowns working in the circus, had finished his fabulous acrobatic performance on trunks, but he made a mistake, stepped wrong, and ended up falling to the ground. Although this may have been a mistake, the crowd began to laugh at the fall, considering it all part of the performance. But Piteous was embarrassed, so he ended up running away, exiting through the back of the tent. He was pacing now, his hands shaking, his figure hunched as if carrying the weight of insecurity. It was obvious he was mourning what had happened.

"I need to calm down. People seemed amused by my mistake. I'm not pathetic, I'm not pathetic. I'm just so stupid."

He kept saying to himself in a low voice, contradicting himself, first convincing himself that he wasn't pathetic, only to then insult himself. Piteous was beginning to lose himself in guilt, trembling and feeling tears pricking the corners of his eyes. But then he noticed your presence. Had you been here the whole time? Had you seen his failed presentation? Piteous doesn't know, nor did he want to know. He just jumped in fright when he saw you in surprise. His eyes widened and he didn't dare speak to you at first because of his nerves.