The Greatest Showman: March One-Shots

18. Photo

prompt was modified again bc it was weird ahaha

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Phillip stares at the photo in his hands, of his beautiful, smiling wife and their beautiful, smiling girls. The photographer had caught them mid-laugh, and the corners of Anne's eyes are crinkled as she hunches over, her mouth wide with happiness. Her hands are placed on either girl's shoulders as they smile widely, joyfully.

Phillip remembers this day like the back of his hand: the four of them had taken a day trip to the beach, but across the beach was a little park where they sat for the majority of the day. Penelope has never particularly enjoyed the sand getting all in her clothes and hair, so she voted to stay over on the grass.

It had been quite possibly the best day ever for the family. They playfully wrestled, rolling all around on the lush green grass; they flew kites up high into the summer sky; they drew pictures of the ocean fading into the horizon line; they attempted to play frisbee but found that the ocean breeze wasn't allowing them to...

But, most of all, they laughed like they wouldn't ever be able to again. It was Morgan's doing, to begin with: she had woken up with an extreme case of the giggles, and while Phillip drove on down to the beach, she was caught up in a fit of laughter the entire time. It made his heart sing to hear that adorable little giggle filling up the car like oxygen.

There was a studying photographer who had been there that day, and he timidly approached Phillip and asked if he could photograph his family, said he couldn't help but watch them from afar. In the midst of this conversation, Penelope was trying to imitate her mother's dance skills, and the three girls were laughing so hard their faces nearly cracked. Through one himself, Phillip said yes.

Anne hadn't liked this photo at first—and it's not like she really liked it now either. She's always hated the way her "face contorts into some gross, convulsive, monster-like thing." But Phillip liked it. Of course he did. He bought every photo, both good and bad, off of that photographer, and he's never regretted it.

The girls had begged their parents to sing, so they, reluctantly, began beautifully harmonizing "This Is Me." Penelope, the biggest Lettie fan in the entire world, played her role throughout the song while Morgan played her mother's. They twirled around and around, smiling and dancing, the sun kissing their soft skin. They fell over from dizziness, and then rolled around on the ground making "grass angels," giggling the whole time.

P.T. had once told him and Anne that Penelope and Morgan reminded him so much of Caroline and Helen when they were younger. And there was no disagreeing there. Phillip remembers the little princesses back when the circus first started, fawning over him as if he were a boyband celebrity and they were starstruck teenagers.

He laughs to himself, once. A breathy, one-second chuckle that lifts his head and puffs his chest, but nothing more. Tears gleam in his eyes.

Phillip remembers that day at the beach-slash-park so well that it's almost like he's there right now, watching it replay in front of him. He wishes it could. He wishes things could go back to the way they were.

The once laughter-filled house with loud and bubbly six-year-olds now remains quiet. The once sneaking-kisses-and-cheesy-compliments-when-the-girls-aren't-looking are now taboo. The happiness and joy that this too-big-for-one-person house once held has completely dissipated. And it's unknown whether it'll one day return or not.

Phillip sets the picture frame back on the bookshelf, facedown. He stalks out of his office, pretending the tears don't exist.