The beads of sweat rolled down Mike’s cheek. He really hated that. He could feel his shirt start clinging to his back and the beads tickle his chest while they rolled down it. He wanted to kick the bundle he was lugging for being so heavy but didn’t because he was more afraid of breaking the beautiful display inside than he was anxious to punish it. So instead he kept on dragging his bundle down the footpath to the lake.
Mike was starting to suspect the footpath would last forever when he finally saw the first glimmers of the lake thrown by the midnight sun. Once the day would break fully, he knew his art would shine for all the world to see.
He arrived to the lake’s shore and he took a moment to take in its full glory. The pier with gentle waves lapping against it in a rhythmic lullaby, the narrow stretch of light brown sand separating the water from the seating area. This was the perfect place for his masterpiece to be displayed.
He started working, setting up his piece right next to the seating area. When he was done he took a step back to admire his handiwork. The rising sun shone off the silver skin of the clown. The corpse had been a lot of work to set up in a standing position, looking as if he were waiting tables. The silver paints and overlays in different hues really brought out the clown’s make-up even without resorting to the garish color changes he had used while living.
Mike smiled as he walked away. Maybe not every clown had a silver lining, but at least now one more did.