Day Three Hundred and Twenty Nine: Sad Clown

A little bit of flash fiction that I’ve been playing around with of late. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it.

Sad Clown

Across a busy road, shaking in front of a fifth floor window a man with his shoulders bobbing up and down. Is this silent mirth, or quiet melancholy? I look down at him from my seventh floor window. I look and I wonder. Sitting before his LCD screen, what is the man in the bank doing with his head in his hands? Framed by the window, shaking his head left and right and moving up and down, is he laughing?

Or is he crying? The tinted windows of this building make the sunniest of days look slate grey and even on a clear day such as this. Cars fly by in street below, en route to the city centre. People take off in buses; they bustle in and out of pubs and restaurants, and into the building where the man in the window sits shaking with his head in his hands. His pale blue shirt looks blunt as I spy him two floors down, quaking on his desk, elbows moving back and forth.

Through my headphones all I can hear is the radio, blocking out the office noise around me yet still this man sits in the window, shaking and quaking. Eventually he removes his hands from his face to reveal his face – painted like a clown. Only it’s smudged and smeared, with two lines down each cheek, wet from tears. He removes his navy blue tie and climbs onto his desk. He turns around and says something to the room behind him; the man sitting in the window to his left slowly rises from his chair and moves towards him. As he crawls towards the clown, he makes large gestures and sympathetic eyes however the sad clown moves backwards towards the window. He waves to the assembled office workers, all on their feet and staring in horror, before standing in the window frame and launching himself out of it. His descent is quick, like a seagull falling out of the air at sea. I don’t hear him hit the ground. No one in my offices notices, no one’s pay attention and in my ears, all I can hear is: “They’re asking us to die for something, while asking us to live for nothing.” resonating in my head.


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