One day, Oriana Engelmeyer receives a ticket to a performance at a travelling circus in her hometown. At a circus that is a source of thousands of legends, at a circus that is accused of kidnapping people. At a circus that looks like the fictional c...
You reach out and grab a bottle from the shelf, with a red and black liquid inside it. The hand is shaking, and this makes you even more annoyed. You're so impatient that the title of the bottle (probably one of the usual ones you'd expect to find in a place like this: poisoned feelings, evaporated hope) completely erases itself before your eyes. The cork falls somewhere, hitting the dirty floor. The red and black liquid tastes sweet, and for some reason, you think it should be a well-known elixir of tart oblivion.
And then you go outside. A circus, a travelling, wandering, disappearing circus. Its red flags, like sharp tongues, dimly flutter in the sky. It's well after eight, but you've just arrived (you sneaked into the tent, stole the elixir, maybe you shouldn't have drunk it at all? Who knows this stupid circus and which traps it has set). You try to remember if it's the seventh of the month or if there's a performance today. You move further and further away from the tent, wandering as if the circus had become the whole Universe.
In the darkness of the tent, someone moves slowly, treads carefully, picks up a cork from the ground, tilts his head to the side and peers too closely. If you saw this, you would feel uncomfortable. The cork? It fell, yes, sorry.
But you're trying to remember the date of the performance, even though the play is unfolding in front of you. Or rather behind you.
With you in the lead role. How will you act if you don't suspect you are being watched?
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