Voices. Toddlers screaming. Tight-lipped mothers.
“And for my last trick!” No. Frank smacked his palms together and thought about rose gardens, berry bushes, and baseball. He caught the right memory, resignation flooding his over-pink face, and raised his left hand in front of him.
He smiled. The smile twisted and disappeared under his raincloud eyes.
Why can’t they see it? Just this once!
Peacock feathers. Ladybugs. Blinking eyes.
The cotton candy world floating above his open hand crumbled, a tablespoon of sand in his sweaty palm.
He checked the deck of cards in his pocket and waited behind the curtain.