He took a gamble, but he should have known better than to bet on himself when he had shitty luck. Would leaving everything he knew behind be worth the effort, for what? New places, new people. Great idea. With what money? His twenty-five cents and socks filled with crumpled dollar bills. Screw her! He kicked a discarded can and wandered through the crowd feeling ripped off. As he ambled about, the lights shifted overhead until they ceased altogether. He made to turn around but met with a bustle of people trying to get inside. Rather than struggle, he followed suit and just made his way up the stairs and took a seat. This is what he wanted, right? Time to think. He had no clue where his mind had gone while he ambled into the tent. Was he that dazed from his fortune-telling session? The tent lights went dead and were replaced by a pink spark that sailed down on the tent's center. A smoke bomb went off, shocking a few people up from their seats. Scarlet vapor engulfed the stage, and a man in a black top hat and red trench coat emerged with a microphone in hand. "Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls, and everyone in between," The showman said through a booming mike. The boy looked about at the crowd looking for the speaker's direction. He could have sworn it was coming from behind him. "Please direct your full attention to the center stage. You wouldn't want to miss the show." Unnerved by the uncanny directions, he did as he was told and sat his butt down. The man removed his trench coat and hat and toppled backward, making a flip. When they landed, a woman in a gold pink sequined jumpsuit appeared, holding a baton instead of a microphone. She threw the wand up, sending it spinning in the air. The crowd cheered as the lights flashed, revealing acrobats flying from the ceiling. One performer caught the baton, twirled it around on her fingertip, then blew on it, lighting it on fire, and tossed it back up. Another acrobat grabbed the rod with a flurry of elegant movements and used it to set fire to the metal wheel with the motorcyclist inside. "Fire, mommy, there's fire! Look, look!" said a toddler tugging at his mother's arm. His mother, in turn, nuzzled him, mumbling a few obscure words, probably to hush. He, in turn, allowed her to cradle him and rest his head on her chest, and he was sound asleep. He couldn't help the pang of bitterness as he watched the kid get comforted by his mother. He got up and made his way down the exile. "Hey, watch it," someone sniped. "Dick." Ignoring the disgruntled whispers, he bit back the smirk. Outside the tent, he took in the dark purple sky overhead, the sun no longer in view but its rays still not out of reach. He tried to recall which hotels were closest and if any of them would accept cash. Coming up empty, he wandered around the tent. Where the hell am I going to sleep? He sidestepped the question by eating the remainder of his corn. He contemplated his hunger. Right now, it was bearable, but by tomorrow morning and many mornings to come, he will wake to aching muscles and starving without a roof over his head. Just staring up at the sky left him feeling cold. He figured he could crash on a bench with no place to sleep. Maybe if he was lucky, he wouldn't get mugged or, worse, arrested. He had evaded a quick demise, but now he was facing a prolonged death. With no map, compass, or north star to guide him in his journey, he wandered stumbling into the world, finding the world stranger as he did so.