Technicolor droplets spattered the pavement.
“Why are you so sad Mr. Clown?” It was a small girl.
The clown, looking down, spoke through tears. “My son was in a terrible auto accident. They say he’ll never walk again.”
“Oh, is that all.” the little girl spoke cheerfully
Angered, the clown raised his head to scold the impertinent child. He saw then the plates attached to her shoes. Rods rose to her tiny waist and a contagious smile filled her face.
The clown smiled back, “I have two tickets to the circus. Would you like to walk there with me?”
© Copyright 2006 by Scott Haas All rights reserved.