It's a gloomy Tuesday night and like every other show night, no one showed up. You pack your chipped white oak wand, your silk red handkerchief stained with grease and sweat, and your white bunny in your black bonded leather bag. The bag is a vintage item that your mother passed down to you. Although this bag holds childhood memories and great sentimental value, it no longer holds much purpose : the once before smooth leather surface has now peeled away only to reveal the core muddy beige fabric that lies beneath it. As you start to walk out, you sense a gust of cold wind as the poorly draped velvet curtains that hang from the tents' entrance flap. As you turn your attention to the entrance, your eyes light up and your eyebrows raise. You notice a medium sized hot mamaz standing from afar at the doorway. You make eye contact as you take in the beauté fatale who stands before you. The face that was once filled with despair and sadness is now grinning, knowing that a person showed up to the dilapidated tent you had bought a few months ago with the last few cheques your ill father had left you in order for you to pursue your dreams of becoming the next Houdini has heartened you. As you admire her long shiny yet slightly greasy tangled hair, she waves in a graceful manner. She purses her lips then shouts from across the stage " am I too late?" She was indeed too late but you do not tell her so as she is the first person to show up in weeks, perhaps months. "Not at all, you're right on time !" You hurry back to your changing room, apply all your clown makeup and stuff the handkerchief that was buried away in your bag back into your pocket. You walk back out to the main stage and you see her, smiling back at you and hysterically clapping. You give your best performance as you feel the constant heat of her gaze on you. You finally end your show by offering her your white bunny.
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