The jokes did not stop. He’d been like this since childhood, constantly cracking up his classmates. Often his teachers had to hide their smiles as they sent him off to the principal.
His rapid-fire words made the party-goers laugh, buckle over, even cringe. He played off their energy, off every grin he got, every face that fell out of a polite party pose.
When the clock struck midnight and the champagne bottles popped, she noticed he wasn’t in the room.
Hallway? No. Kitchen? Not there either.
She found him outside staring at the moon. Touching his shoulder, she spied tears.
Faye Rapoport DesPres writes because she tends to live life twice (or a few times).
4 thoughts on “Party Clown”
Such a sad one. It’s terrible to feel that way.
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This story punched me right in the gut. I have seen that man but also know what it feels like to be that man.