Written by Starr Hardgrove
Edited by Bonny Lee Hardgrove
He had just come home from a very long day. He sat down at his favorite chair at his makeup table and began to wash the clown white makeup from his face. The red lips and blue circles around his eyes came off with a single wipe, revealing the pallid, pale complexion of a man who was at the end of his rope. The wrinkles were getting harder and harder to hide, even under layers of greasepaint. As he looked into the mirror- the same mirror that he had looked into a million times, he saw something that he hadn’t before. His reflection was a bit off. He didn’t register it at first, but when he saw it, he thought it might have been the obscure angle on which the mirror hung. He dismissed it and continued to take off his makeup. By the time he was completely clean and clear of the clown face, he gave it a final rinse and dried off with a towel stained with the remnants of many past clownish grins. He applied a moisturizing lotion to his skin, as per his usual routine. Yet, it seemed that his hands didn’t quite line up with those of his reflection in the mirror. He thought this may be his overtired mind playing tricks on him. Perhaps the poor light? The mind does tend to tease after long stretches of not properly taking care of oneself, and he certainly hadn’t been lately. He sat in his chair, ate whatever food passed for dinner this evening, and settled in to rest. He turned on the television and idly sank into some nature show- something about predators on the Savannah. He sat in his robe and relaxed. His slow descent into slumber was interrupted by the sound of laughter from the next room.
This is just half of the story.
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