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Chapter Text

The  prisoner  stood  with  his  hands  tied  in  front  of  him.  Aching, barely standing, bruises and blood covering most of his form, and with filth damaging his expensive robes. But doing his best to mantain a  proud  back  befitting  his  royal  heritage.  His captor,  Lokesh,  looked  on  haughtily  from  a  lavishly  carved,  gilded throne.  Tall,  white  pillars  stood  like  sentinels  around  the  room, details in sublte Ujjain architrcture embroidering the space.  Not  a whisper  of  a  humid  breeze  moved  across  the  sheer  draperies. A heavy silence weighted upon everyone's heads.  All  the prisoner  could  hear  was  the  steady  clinking  of  Lokesh’s  jeweled  rings against  the  side  of  the  golden  chair.  Lokesh  looked  down,  in a failed attempt not to let it show the satisfaction he was feeling, but with eyes narrowed into contemptuous, triumphant slits.

Chapter Text

I was standing on a precipice. 

Technically, I was just standing in line at a temp job office in Oregon, but it felt like a precipice. The end of the known, safe world and the abyss of the unknown before me. Childhood, high school, and the illusion that life was good and times were easy were behind me. Ahead loomed the future: college, a variety of summer jobs to help pay for tuition, and the probability of a lonely adulthood. The part of growing up no one really talks about in school.

The line inched forward. I’d been waiting for what seemed like hours trying to get a lead on a summer job. When it was finally my turn, I approached the desk of a bored, tired job placement worker who was on the phone. The chubby woman gestured me closer and indicated that I should sit down. After she hung up, I handed her some forms and she mechanically began the interview. Her voice was monotone.

“Name, please.”

“Kelsey. Kelsey Hayes.”

“Age?”

“Seventeen, almost eighteen. My birthday’s coming soon.”

She stamped the forms. “Are you a high school graduate?”

“Yes. I graduated just a couple of weeks ago. I plan on attending Chemeketa this fall.”

“Parents’ names?”

“Madison and Joshua Hayes, but my guardians are Sarah and Michael

Neilson.”

“Guardians?”

I inhaled. Somehow explaining my life never got easier.

“Yes. My parents are . . . deceased. They died in a car accident when I was a freshman.”

Unbothered, she bent over some paperwork and scribbled for a long time. Her hand moved with stiff movements like a printer, and for a while, the sound of the pen filled the dense space between us. I grimaced, wondering what she could be writing that was taking so long.

“Miss Hayes, do you like animals?”

“Sure. Umm, I know how to feed them . . .” I cleared my throat. “I mean, sure, I love animals.”

The woman didn’t really seem to care about my response, and she handed me a posting for a job.

The job was for the Circus Maurizio, a small family-run circus at the fairgrounds. I remembered getting a coupon for it at the grocery store and I’d even considered offering to take my foster parents’ kids, Rebecca, who is six years old, and Samuel, who is four, so that Sarah and Mike could have some time to themselves. But then I lost the coupon and forgot all about it.

“So, do you want the job or what?” the woman asked impatiently.

“A tiger, huh? Sounds interesting! Are there elephants, too? Because I have to draw the line at scooping up elephant droppings.” I giggled quietly at my own joke, but the woman didn’t so much as crack a smile. Since I had no other options, I told her that I would do it. She gave me a card with an address and she instructed me to be there the next day by 6:00 a.m.

I wrinkled my nose. They need me at six in the morning? , was my first thought.

The worker just gave me a look and shouted “Next!” at the line shuffling behind me.

What had I gotten myself into? I asked myself as I climbed into Sarah’s borrowed hybrid and headed home. I sighed. It could be worse. I could be flipping burgers tomorrow. Circuses are fun. I just hope there are no elephants.

Living with Sarah and Mike was okay for the most part. They gave me a lot more freedom than most other kids’ parents, and I think we have a healthy respect for each other—well, at least as much as adults can respect a seventeen-year-old anyway. I helped babysit their kids and never got into trouble. It wasn’t the same as being with my parents, but we were still a family of sorts.

I parked the car carefully in the garage and headed to the door on the left into the house to find Sarah attacking a mixing bowl with a wooden spoon. I dropped my bag on a chair and went to get a glass of water.

“Making vegan cookies again, I see. What’s the special occasion?” I asked.

Sarah jammed the wooden spoon into the dense dough several times as if the spoon were an icepick. Her blonde hair was in a messy bun showing just how much she’d been fighting the food. “It’s Sammy’s turn to bring treats for his playdate.”

I stifled a snigger by coughing.

She narrowed her eyes at me shrewdly. “Kelsey Hayes, just because your mother was the best cookie baker in the world doesn’t mean I can’t make a decent treat.”

“It’s not your skills I doubt, it’s your ingredients,” I said, picking up a jar. “Substitute nut butter, flax, protein powder, and agave. I’m surprised you don’t put recycled paper in those things. Where’s the chocolate?”

“I use carob sometimes.”

“ Carob is not chocolate. It tastes like brown chalk. If you’re going to make cookies, you should make—”

“I know. I know. Pumpkin chocolate chip or double chocolate peanut butters. They’re really bad for you, Kelsey,” she said with a sigh.

“At least they have natural ingredients, not a bunch of chemical substitutes.”

I watched Sarah lick a finger and continued. “By the way, I got a job. I’m going to be cleaning up and feeding animals at a circus. It’s at the fairgrounds.”

“Good for you! That sounds like it will be a great experience,” Sarah perked up. “What kind of animals?”

“Uh, dogs mostly. And I think there’s a tiger. But I probably won’t have to do anything dangerous. I’m sure they have professional tiger people for that stuff. But I do have to start really early and will be sleeping there for the next two weeks.”

“Hmmm,” Sarah paused contemplatively. “Well we’re just a phone call away if you need us. Would you mind taking the brussels sprouts casserole a la ‘recycled newspaper’ out of the oven?”

I went to set the stinky casserole in the center of the table while she popped her cookie sheets in the oven and called the kids to dinner. Mike came in, set down his briefcase, and kissed his wife on the cheek. His brown hair was also a bit messy by now.

“What’s that . . . smell?” he asked suspiciously.

“Brussels sprouts casserole,” I answered.

“And I made cookies for Sammy’s playgroup,” Sarah announced

proudly. “I’ll save the best one for you.”

Mike shot me a knowing look that Sarah caught. She snapped her dishtowel at his thigh.

“If that’s the attitude you and Kelsey are bringing to the table then the two of you get cleanup duty tonight.”

“Aw, honey. Don’t be mad.” He kissed Sarah again and wrapped his arms around her, trying his best to get out of the task.

I took that as my cue to exit. As I snuck out of the kitchen, I heard Sarah giggle.

Someday, I’d like a guy to try and talk himself out of cleanup duty with me in the same way , I thought and smiled.

Apparently, Mike negotiated well because he got put-the-kids-to-bed duty instead of cleanup, while I was left to do dishes on my own. I didn’t mind really but as soon as I was done, I decided it was my bedtime too. Six o’clock in the morning was going to come awfully early.

Quietly, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. It was small and cozy, with just a simple bed on the right, a mirrored dresser by its side, a desk for my computer and homework on the left, a closet next to the door, my clothes, my books, a basket of different colored hair ribbons, and my grandmother’s quilt.

My grandmother made that quilt when I was little. I was very young, but I remember her stitching it together, the same metal thimble always on her finger. I traced a butterfly on the worn-out, raggedy-at the-corners quilt, remembering how I had snuck the thimble out of her sewing kit one night just to feel her near me. Even though I was a teenager, I still slept with the quilt every night.

I changed into my pajamas, shook my hair free from its braid, and brushed it out, flashing back to how mom used to do it for me while we talked. She was always so gentle.

Crawling under my warm covers, I set my alarm for 4:30 a.m. and wondered what I could possibly be doing with a tiger so early in the morning and how I would survive the three-ring circus that was already my life. My stomach growled.

I glanced at my nightstand and the two pictures I kept out. One picture was of the three of us: Mom, Dad, and me at a New Year’s celebration. I had just turned twelve. My long brown hair had been curled but in the picture it drooped because I’d thrown a fit about using hairspray. I’d smiled in the shot, despite the fact that I had a gleaming row of silver braces. I was grateful for my straight white teeth now, but I’d absolutely hated those braces back then.

I touched the glass, placing my thumb briefly over the image of my pale face. I’d always longed to be svelte, tan, blond, and blue eyed but I had the same brown eyes as my father and the tendency toward chubbiness of my mother. Now I think those traits make me closer to them.

The other was a candid shot of my parents at their wedding. There was a beautiful water fountain in the background, and they were young, happy, and smiling at each other. I wanted that for myself someday. I wanted someone to look at me like that.

Flopping over on my stomach and stuffing my pillow under my cheek, I drifted off thinking about my mom’s cookies.

That night, I dreamed I was being chased through the jungle, and when I turned to look at my pursuer, I was startled to see a large tiger. My dream self laughed and smiled and then turned and ran faster. The sound of gentle, padded paws raced along after me, beating in time with my heart.

Chapter Text

My alarm startled me out of a deep sleep at 4:30 in the morning.

It was dawn. The sun still hadn’t climbed over the mountains, but the sky was already brightening, changing the few clouds to pink cotton candy in the eastern horizon. It must have drizzled rain last night because I could smell an appealing fragrance in the air—the scent of wet grass and pine mingled together. The mostly clear sky was an indicator that the temperatures would rise throughout the day, thought it would hardly be too hot. Oregon almost never got too hot.

I hopped out of bed, turned on the shower, waited till the bathroom turned good and steamy, and then jumped in and let the hot water pound my back to wake up my sleepy muscles.

Once out, I tugged on a short-sleeved T-shirt and a good pair of work jeans. Then, I slipped my feet into tennis shoes, toweled dry my hair, and wove it into a quick French braid that I tied off with a blue ribbon. Next, I applied some lip gloss, and voilà, my circus primping was complete. That should be good for most of what I was supposed to do there.

I figured I wouldn’t need to bring much, just a couple of things to make me comfortable since I would only be at the circus for two weeks and could always make a pit stop at home. I rifled through my closet and selected three outfits before pulling open my dresser drawers. I grabbed a few sock balls and shoved everything into my trusty school backpack. I organize everything neatly and by colour, which made packing ridiculously easy. Then I stuffed in some pens and pencils, a few books, my journal, some toiletries, my wallet, and the pictures of my family. I rolled up my quilt, stuffed it in the top, and jiggled the zipper until it shut.

Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I headed downstairs. Sarah and Mike were already awake and eating breakfast. They woke up insanely early every day to go running. At 5:30 a.m. they were already done.

I mumbled, “Hey, good morning, guys.”

Mike said, “Hey, good morning back. So, are you ready to start the new job?”

“Yeah. I get to sell tickets and hang around a tiger for two weeks. Great, huh?”

He chuckled. “Yep, sounds pretty great. More interesting than Public Works anyway. Want a lift? I drive right past the fairgrounds on my way into town.”

I smiled at him. “Sure. Thanks, Mike. I’d love a ride,” I replied.

Promising to call Sarah every few days, I grabbed a granola bar, quickly forced myself to gulp down half a glass of their soy milk— barely containing my gag reflex—and headed out the door with Mike.

At the fairgrounds, a big, blue sign posted on the street advertised upcoming events. A large slick banner read

POLK COUNTY FAIRGROUNDS WELCOMES THE CIRCUS MAURIZIO FEATURING THE MAURIZIO ACROBATS AND THE FAMOUS DHIREN!

I exhaled softly and started walking along the gravel path toward the main building. The central complex looked like a large airplane or military bunker. The paint was cracked and peeling in places, and the windows needed to be washed. A large American flag snapped and rolled in the breeze as the chain it was attached to clinked softly against the metal flagpole.

The fairground was an odd cluster of old buildings, a small parking lot, and a dirt path that wound between everything and around the border of the grounds. A pair of long, flatbed trucks were parked alongside several white canvas tents. Circus posters hung everywhere; there was at least one large poster on every building. Some featured acrobats. Some had pictures of jugglers.

I didn’t see any elephants and breathed a sigh of relief.

A torn poster fluttered in the breeze. I caught the edge and smoothed it out against the post. It was a picture of a white tiger.

Well, hello there! I thought.

Opening the door to the main building, I walked inside. The central hub had been converted into a one-ring circus. Tiers of faded red stadium chairs were stacked against the walls.

Chatting in the corner was a couple of people. A tall man, who looked like he was in charge, was off to the side, writing on a clipboard and inspecting boxes. I made a beeline for him across the black springy floor and introduced myself, “Hi, my name’s Kelsey, your two-week temp.”

He looked me up and down while chewing on something, and then spat on the floor. “Go around back, out those doors, and turn to your left. A black and silver motor home is parked out there.”

I kept mt expression as friendly or neutral as I could, but God, that was disgusting.

“Thanks!” I managed to smile at him anyway. I made my way to the motor home and knocked on the door.

“Jus’ a minute,” a man’s voice yelled. The door opened unexpectedly fast, and I jumped back in surprise. A man in a dress robe towered over me, laughing heartily at my reaction. He was very tall, dwarfing my fivefoot, seven-inch frame, and he had a rotund potbelly. Black, curly hair covered his scalp, but the hairline ended just a little bit past where it should be. Smiling at me, he reached up to shift his hairpiece back into place. A thin black mustache with both ends waxed to thin points stuck straight out from either side of his upper lip. He also had a tiny square goatee patch on his chin.

“Don’t be-a intimadated at my appearance,” he insisted.

I dropped my eyes, a bit awkward. “I’m not intimidated. It just seems I caught you by surprise. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

He laughed. “I like surprises. It keeps me-a young and a most handsome man.”

I giggled but stopped quickly after remembering this was probably my new boss. Crow’s feet surrounded his twinkling blue eyes. His skin was tan, which showed off his toothy, white smile. He seemed like the kind of man who’s always laughing at a private joke.

In a booming theatrical voice, with a strong Italian accent, he asked, “And who might you be, young lady?”

I smiled, in an attempt to conceal my nervousness. “Hi. My name’s Kelsey. I was hired to work here for a couple of weeks.”

He leaned over to grasp my hand. His completely enfolded mine and he shook it up and down enthusiastically enough to make my teeth rattle. “Ah, fantastico! How propitious! Welcome to the Circus Maurizio! We are a little, how you say, short-handed, and need some assistence while we are in your magnificent... huh città — city! Eh? Splendid to have you! Let us get a started immediately.”

He glanced over at a cute young blonde girl about fourteen years old who was walking by. “Cathleen, take this young woman to Matt and inform him I, what is the word... desideri—that I wish him to work with her together. He’s in charge to teach her today.” He turned again to me. “Nice to meet you, Kelsey. I hope you enjoy, working here at our small little circus!”

I said, “Thanks, it was nice to meet you too.”

He winked at me, then turned around, went back inside his motor home, and closed the door.

Cathleen smiled and led me around the back of the building to the circus’s sleeping quarters. “Welcome to the big—er, well, small top! Come on, follow me. You can sleep in my tent if you want. There are a couple of extra cots in there. My mom, my aunt, and I all share a tent. We travel with the circus. My mom’s an acrobat and my aunt is, too. Our tent’s nice, if you can ignore all the costumes.”

She led me into her tent and to a vacant cot. The tent was spacious. I stowed my backpack under an empty cot and looked around. She was right about the costumes. They were hanging everywhere—racks and racks of them. Lace, sparkles, feathers, and spandex covered every corner of the tent. There was also a lit mirrored table with makeup, hairbrushes, pins, and curlers strewn haphazardly over every square inch of the surface.

We then found Matt, who looked to be about fourteen or fifteen. He had brown hair, an average short haircut, brown eyes, and a happy-go-lucky grin. He was trying to set up a ticket stand by himself—and failing miserably.

"Hey, Matt,” Cathleen said as we grabbed the bottom of the booth to help him.

She was blushing. How cute.

Cathleen continued, “Um, this is Kelsey. She’s here for two weeks. You’re supposed to show her the ropes.”

“No problem,” he replied. “See ya around, Cath.”

“See ya.” She smiled and flounced away.

“So, Kelsey, I guess you get to be my sidekick today, huh? Well, you’ll love it,” he said, teasing me. “I run the tickets and souvenir booths, and I’m the trash collector and stock boy. I basically do everything around here that needs to get done. My dad’s the circus animal trainer.”

“That’s a cool job.” I replied and joked, “It’s sounds better than a trash collector anyway.”

Matt laughed. “Let’s get going then,” he said.

We spent the next few hours hauling boxes, stocking the concession stand, and preparing for the public. My biceps protested the whole time.

Dad always used to say, “Hard work keeps you grounded” whenever Mom would come up with a massive new project like planting a flower garden. He was infinitely patient, and when I complained about the extra work, he’d just smile and say, “Kells, when you love someone, you learn to give and take. Someday that will happen to you too."

It was adorable.

When everything was ready, Matt sent me over to Cathleen to pick out and change into a circus costume—which turned out to be gold, glittery, and full of sparkles. A bit too sparkly for my taste, to be honest.

What don't we do for some extra cash, am I right?

Donned in my new sparkly getup, I walked out to the ticket booth and saw that Matt had put up the price board. He was waiting for me with instructions, the lock box, and a ring of tickets. He had also brought me a sack lunch.

“It’s show time. Chow down quick because a couple of buses of summer camp kids are on their way.”

Before I could finish eating, the camp children descended upon me in a raucous, violent flurry of little bodies. I felt like tiny buffalo were stampeding over me. My customer service-like smile probably looked more like a frightened grimace. There was nowhere for me to run. They were all around me—each one clamoring for my attention.

The adults approached, and I asked them hopefully, “Are you all paying together or separately?”

One of the teachers responded, “Oh, no. We decided to let each child buy a ticket."

“That’s great,” I muttered with a fake smile.

This job better be worth it.

I began selling the tickets, and Cathleen soon joined me until I heard the music of the performance begin. I sat there for about twenty minutes more, but nobody else came in, so I locked the money box and found Matt inside the tent watching the show.

The man I’d met earlier that morning was the ringleader. “What’s his name?” I whispered to Matt.

“Agostino Maurizio,” he replied. “He’s the owner of the circus, and the acrobats are all members of his family.”

Mr. Maurizio brought out the clowns, acrobats, and jugglers, and I found myself enjoying the performance. Before long, though, Matt elbowed me and motioned to the souvenir stand. Intermission was going to start soon: time to sell balloons.

Together we blew up dozens of multicolored balloons with a helium tank. When the kids arrived, they were in a frenzy! They ran to every booth and counted out their coins so they could spend every penny.

Red seemed to be the most popular balloon color. Matt took the money while I inflated the balloons. I’d never done it before, and I popped a few, which startled the kids, but I tried to make the loud pops into a joke by shouting, “Whoopsie!” every time it happened. Pretty soon, they were yelling, “Whoopsie!” along with me.

The music began again, and the kids quickly filed back to their seats, clutching their assorted purchases. Several of the kids had bought glowin-the-dark swords and were waving them around, threatening each other gleefully.

As we sat down, Matt’s dad came into the ring to do his dog show. He looked big and tall, and his posture was full of confidence. Quite imposing, really. But he seemed friendly around the dogs. Then the clowns came out again and played various tricks on audience members. One threw a bucket of confetti over the kids.

I probably get to sweep all that up, huh, was all I could think as I saw the tiny multicoloured dots falling on the floor.

Next, Mr. Maurizio came back out. Dramatic safari hunting music began, with drums of all kinds coming out of the speakers in many upper corners of the tent, and the circus lights extinguished quickly, as if they had been mysteriously blown out. A spotlight found the announcer in the center of the ring. “And now . . . the highlight of our program! He was taken from the harsh, wild jungles of India and brought here to America. He is a fierce hunter, who stalks his prey in the wild, waiting, watching for the right time, and then, he . . . springs into action! Movimento!”

While he was talking, men brought out a large, round cage. It was shaped like a giant upside-down bowl with a chain-link fence tunnel attached to one side. They set it in the middle of the ring and clamped locks onto metal rings embedded in cement blocks.

Mr. Maurizio continued. He roared into the microphone, and the kids all jumped in their seats. I laughed at Mr. Maurizio’s theatrics. He proclaimed, “This tiger is one of the most dangerous predators in the entire world! Watch our trainer carefully as he risks his life to bring you . . . Dhiren!” He jerked his head toward the right, and then he ran out of the ring as the spotlight moved over to the canvas flaps at the end of the building. Two men had pulled out an old-fashioned animal wagon, fully painted in what must've been bright colours a few decades ago.

It looked like the kind of wagon on a box of animal crackers. It had a white, curvy gilt-edged top, big black wheels painted white around the edges, and ornamental carved spokes that were painted gold. Black metal bars on both sides of the wagon curved in an arch at the top.

A ramp from the wagon door was attached to the chain-link tunnel, as Matt’s dad entered the cage. He set up three stools on the side of the cage opposite from where he stood. He had changed into an impressive golden costume and brandished a short whip.

“Release the tiger!” he commanded.

The doors opened, and a man standing by the cage prodded the animal. I held my breath as an enormous white tiger emerged from the cage, trotted down the ramp, and into the chain-link tunnel. A moment later, it was in the big cage with Matt’s father.

If I though Matt's father was a tall man, the tiger beside him made me reconsider. Now he seemed almost short in comparision.

The whip cracked, and the tiger jumped up onto a stool. Its enormous figure found balance effortlessly, and its tail pointed backwards in an elegant curve. Another crack and the tiger stood on its hind legs and pawed the air with its claws. Huge claws. The crowd erupted into applause. Standing, it was even more impressive.

The tiger leapt from stool to stool while Matt’s father kept pulling the stools farther and farther away. Its stripes moved with its moviments, and that entranced me. I observed the way its tail swayed as the tiger jumped, keeping its balance with such smooth motion. On the last leap, I held my breath. I wasn’t sure if the tiger would make it to the other stool, but Matt’s father encouraged it. Gathering itself, it crouched low, assessed the distance carefully, and then leapt across the breach.

Its entire body was airborne for several seconds, with its legs stretched out ahead and behind. It was a magnificent animal. Reaching the stool with its front paws, it shifted its weight, and landed its back feet gracefully. Turning on the small stool, it rotated its large body with ease, and sat, facing its trainer.

I clapped for a long time, totally in awe.

The first time the tiger roared I jumped back and my heart hammered loudly inside my chest from the scare. I never thought I'd hear something so powerful up close. It was a deep angry sound that made the structure that held together the circus resonate. The tiger roared on command, stood on its hind legs, and batted its paws in the air. My eyes and my smile were as wide as they could get. Matt’s father shouted another command. The tiger jumped down from the stool and ran around the cage in a circle. The trainer circled as well, keeping his eyes centered on the animal. He kept the whip just behind the tiger’s tail, encouraging it to keep moving. Matt’s dad gave a signal and a young man passed a large ring though the cage—a hoop. The tiger leapt through the hoop, then quickly turned around and jumped back through again and again. The way those stripes stretched and shrunk as it moved held my attention.

The last thing the trainer did was put his head inside the tiger’s mouth. A hush fell on the crowd and Matt stiffened. The tiger opened its mouth impossibly wide. I saw its sharp teeth and leaned forward feeling concerned. Matt’s father slowly moved his head closer to the tiger. The tiger blinked a few times, but it held still, and its powerful jaws gaped even wider.

Matt’s dad lowered his head all the way inside the animal’s mouth, fully within the chomping area of the tiger’s maw. Finally, he slowly brought his head out. When his head was completely free and he had moved away, the crowd erupted in cheers, while he bowed several times. Other handlers appeared to help take down the cage.

My eyes were drawn to the tiger, which was now sitting on one of the stools. I saw it moving its tongue around. It was scrunching up its face as if it smelled something funny. It almost looked like it was gagging, like a cat does when it has a hairball. Then it shook itself and sat there calmly.

Matt’s dad brought his hands up, and the crowd cheered loudly. The whip cracked again, and the tiger quickly jumped off the stool, ran back through the tunnel, up the ramp, and into its cage. Matt’s dad bowed to the audience and they applauded. He then ran out of the ring, stepping behind the canvas curtain.

Mr. Maurizio dramatically shouted, “The Great Dhiren! Mille grazie! Thank you so much for coming to see the Circus Maurizio!”

As the tiger’s cage was wheeled away before me, one last look at it made a hint of something different run among my excitement. Something slightly bitter and dissonant. It seemed like melancholy.

Just at that moment, a soft breeze wrapped around me carrying notes of strong scents, alluring perfums it took me a while to recognize. Something like night blooming jasmine and sandalwood. It completely overwhelmed the local aroma of hot buttered popcorn and cotton candy. I was suddenly bewitched. But as quickly as it came, the lovely scent disappeared, leaving me wishing for more and wondering about its source. The popcorn and cotton candy filled the air again.

Was that perfum even real? I wanted to believe it was.

The lights came up and the kids started stampeding out of the arena. My brain was still slightly foggy. Slowly, I got up and turned around to stare at the curtain where the tiger had disappeared. An unsettled feeling lingered. Curiosity mixed with something else.

The show was over, and I realized how tired I was.