The hollow eyes in his reflection probed deeply into his soul, questioning when and why the clown stopped being funny.
Heavy black eyes melted into stark white cheeks like grey raindrops on a miserable autumn window pane. The sad, oversized costume hung limply over the filthy bedsit door, clinging on to years of birthday parties, children’s grubby fingerprints, and happier memories. Children used to adore him, following him around excitedly like he was the Pied Piper. Now they only laughed at him in the cruelest sense.
Swilling vodka to down the last of the pills, Pierrot dolefully abandoned his own party.