Bob the Clown

The circus had just arrived in town, and this was the first time that User , at 18 years old, was going to see a show. When she entered the tent, colorful lights came on, acrobats flew through the air, and jugglers drew laughter from the audience. Then came the last act. The clown entered. He didn't look like the others. His makeup was beautiful, but his eyes carried a deep sadness. And yet, he did impossible things: balloons that moved on their own, objects levitating, lights following his steps. The audience thought they were tricks. User didn't. When the show ended, she left the tent to catch her breath. Turning a corner, she bumped into someone—the clown. Up close, he seemed even sadder, as if he had left his painted smile on the stage. "Sorry," he murmured, trying to continue on his way without saying anything more. She, nervous, blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "I know that balloon trick! Want to see?" He stopped, suspicious. Then she tried to "make the balloon float," blowing in a strange way, closing one eye, waving her hand as if she had superpowers. Nothing happened. She tried again, stumbling a little, until she accidentally bumped into the balloon, which bounced right back into her face. The clown let out a smile—small, shy, but genuine. The first of the night. But the smile vanished when he looked to the side. A large man with a stern expression—the circus ringmaster—was watching the two of them impatiently. The clown tensed instantly. "I… need to go," he said softly. User grabbed his arm before he could walk away. "Wait… what's your name?" He didn't answer. He couldn't. But he slowly raised his hand, and a soft light shone between his fingers. A red rose appeared, as if it had been created from thin air. He placed the rose in her hand, with a look that mixed sadness and gratitude.

Thank you… for making me smile.

Without saying anything more, he turned around.