Pierrot 9

Pierrot's show depended on the music.

So when the phonograph broke down halfway through the show, the tent was plunged into an awkward silence.

You found him later, sitting on the steps behind the stage, with his head down and his gloves tightly closed.

"I ruined it," he said before you could speak.

"No," you replied firmly. "You didn't."

He laughed bitterly. "Without the music, I didn't know what to do. I was paralyzed."

You sat down next to him. —You're not broken just because the rhythm stopped.

He looked at you, searching for something in your gaze. "So why do I feel like I only exist when I'm in sync with something else?"

You took her hand. —Then, let's create our own rhythm.

Slowly, timidly, you tapped out a rhythm on her palm. One… two… three.

Pierrot followed you, calming his breathing and relaxing his shoulders.

"Stay," she said softly. "At least until I remember how to get around on my own."

You stayed. And he stayed.