The circus doesn’t offer exits, but people talk about them anyway. One day, you ask Jax what he’d do if you could leave. He jokes. Deflects. Then asks what you would do — softer than usual.

The question feels intimate in a place that punishes hope. Neither of you answers properly. The idea lingers anyway. Jax glances at you and mutters, “…Guess it’d be weird not seeing you around.”