The Show Must Go On

A tear dripped down his face as the flames rose high into the sky, taking with them the one important person he had had. The heat enclosed him, and he wiped away the lone drop, standing glassy eyed, trickles of sweat flowing generously down his brow. She had been the one who taught him all he knew, and he was all he was because of her.

He hadn’t been able to thank her ever, nor had he told her how important she was to him, he had just let her go. Following his dad’s footsteps, he had gone on to become a joker in the same troupe, but he had improved the act, and with his mother’s help, the same mother who had just left him all alone, he had taken his performance to a high such that the audience wouldn’t leave without experiencing his presence on the stage.

There was a hole now, in his heart, and in his life, something irreparable, a wound which couldn’t be healed, a loss which couldn’t be sustained. His eyes intently gazing at the rising flames, he lingered for a moment longer, as though waiting for a miracle, and then walked away, a bent silhouette outlined in the darkness of the fire.

The silence highlighted his presence as he walked down the street, a shadow in the dusk. The sky rose to greet him, a conflation of hues, blues and purples and reds and yellows, as the orange ball dipped, and with it dipped his head. He fell to the asphalt, unable to hold his emotions inside for even a moment more. He rocked under the pressure of his heart, and his eyes let it all out in torrents.

Suddenly, his sobs were broken by the ring of his phone, and with a deep breath, he received the call.

“Yeah, I’m on my way…no, I’m fine…I’ll handle it…I’m just coming…”

Wiping his face with his sleeve, and halting the flow instantly, he walked away, with a purpose, with a reason to go on, to strive. He would have to do it for her.

An hour later, the audience laughed, holding their guts, as a clown danced around the stage, making fun of himself, mocking people in the audience, playing with animals, and in the end, falling in a heap, and crying. The painted smile had turned down, and the enjoyment of the crowd was mirrored in him, as he lay on the stage.

They did not know him, nor did they know how n who he was. They laughed on his tears, and he cried for her, he longed for her. As he bowed down to the audience, he flashed them his smile, and for once, his heart smiled, after long, before disappearing back into the abyss of absence, and loss.

This was just an act, for them, not for him.

As he walked off the stage, he murmured to himself, “The show must go on. It never ends. That’s with life too.”