The Tears of a Clown (an Arthur Fleck/Joker love story)

One

Coulrophobia is what they called it, apparently. Which in plain English basically meant, "a persistent and irrational fear of clowns"

Okay, so Alice knew it wasn't exactly an uncommon phobia to suffer from, after all, many people found clowns kind of creepy.

In some peculiar, almost abstract sort of way, the garish appearance of a clown was a striking contrast compared to Alice's own appearance. Whilst they were bright and painted and jovial, she on the other hand looked almost somber in comparison, with her naturally dark hair and wardrobe that consisted mostly of sensible, characterless clothing.

Along with her bookish appearance, due to her deadpan expression she was regularly accused of being miserable. But she couldn't help that. It was just her facial expressions. Having to paint on a smile for the rest of the world grew to be so tiresome, and in Gotham's current social and economical climate, there was very little to smile about.
Which, was another thing she disliked about clowns. Their maniacal, wide grins were downright disturbing and scarily unnatural.

Just thinking about it made her shudder.
And she was being forced to think more and more about it these days.

Alice couldn't remember precisely how and when the fear itself began, though she did have a rather distinct memory of hiding behind the couch as a young child, terrified, when her stepfather used to insist on watching the old silent black and white movie, "He Who Gets Slapped." and pretty much figured that her phobia must've stemmed from that.

Then of course, last year "Terror On Tour" had been released, and the sight of the movie cast done up with those eerily painted faces on all the posters, made her cringe inwardly.

But now of course, the recent uprising in the city wasn't helping matters. The rowdy protesters donning clown masks in homage to the city's very own resident 'killer clown' freaked Alice out so much she could scarcely bring herself to leave the safety of her home.

Though the term 'safety' was almost laughable. The neighbourhood she lived in on the edge of the city had grown increasingly run-down, with many inhabitants moving away, leaving houses abandoned and vandalised by gangs of young thugs who had nothing else better to do with their time.

That afternoon Alice caught the bus downtown, this being her preferred mode of transport since the grisly subway murders. It was most definitely an inconvenience and added an extra hour each way to her commute, but she figured it was the safest option. However today, she arrived late at the Murray Franklin Theatre which was located in the city's theatre district, Gotham Plaza.

A protest rally was going on at City Hall, leading to many of the main roads around Gotham Square, being cordoned off. As a result, the traffic was even more chaotic than usual, and in the end she --- along with several other commuters -- had to resort to getting off the bus ahead of their designated stops, deciding that the journey would be quicker on foot.

The walk was a harrowing experience. Groups of demonstrators roamed the garbage-strewn streets in their clown masks, and like a timid little mouse Alice scuttled along, opting to take the shady backstreets whenever she could, to avoid as many of the clowns as possible.
When she was forced to walk by them, she affixed her gaze firmly on the ground, walking with her head down, heart palpitating wildly, beads of sweat gathering on her forehead.

"You're late!" Was the greeting she met with, upon entering the work staff room.

Alice resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. Clarissa, the executive producers' assistant always had a knack for pointing out the obvious.