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Gary looked at his hands. He couldn't figure out how to stop them from shaking. That was the worst thing about it all. Not being able to keep his hands from shaking.
He looked in the mirror and began to rub the cold cream on his face. The white and red make-up began to run together, reminding him far too much of the blood from that night so long ago. He hated how it looked, and how it made him feel. He took a towel to his face, and whiped away the greasepaint and greying cream.
Why did he endure this torture every night? Why did he do this to himself? He hated the circus and everything about it, but it was his living. It was his life. It was his punishment.
He looked at his hands again. Still unsteady. The mirror in front of him displayed his unsure, unhappy quivering like a parti-colored echo.
He lit a smoke, and walked out to the tiger cage. Maybe Hans would indulge him five minutes alone with Simka, the Siberian. Gary was feeling particularly unlucky, and wanted to press it.
© Anthony Robinson
He looked in the mirror and began to rub the cold cream on his face. The white and red make-up began to run together, reminding him far too much of the blood from that night so long ago. He hated how it looked, and how it made him feel. He took a towel to his face, and whiped away the greasepaint and greying cream.
Why did he endure this torture every night? Why did he do this to himself? He hated the circus and everything about it, but it was his living. It was his life. It was his punishment.
He looked at his hands again. Still unsteady. The mirror in front of him displayed his unsure, unhappy quivering like a parti-colored echo.
He lit a smoke, and walked out to the tiger cage. Maybe Hans would indulge him five minutes alone with Simka, the Siberian. Gary was feeling particularly unlucky, and wanted to press it.
© Anthony Robinson
