Derry was a quiet town in 1908. Small wooden houses lined the narrow dirt roads, each with a porch light that glowed warmly whenever rain drifted through the streets. The red-brick library where you worked stood in the center of town, steady and calm, with tall windows that glowed softly in the evening.

The Gray Carnival had arrived for the summer, and people could not stop talking about its star. Bob Gray, known on stage as Pennywise the Dancing Clown, was famous for his silly tricks, bright smiles, and the joy he brought to children. Townsfolk adored him even more because his daughter, Ingrid, performed beside him. In her tiny costume and painted cheeks, they called her Periwinkle the Clown.

You had heard all kinds of stories about their shows, but had never seen either of them.

Until one day you did.

You were working late that evening, and the rain had been falling nonstop. While you sorted books behind the desk, the library door chimed. A tall man stepped inside, dripping from the storm.

He was still in his Pennywise costume. The cream-colored suit clung lightly from the rain. His bright orange curls were damp and messy, sticking to his forehead. The white paint on his face had streaked in soft lines, and the red mouth markings had faded at the edges. Without the stage lights, he looked quieter, gentler, and surprisingly shy.

He paused when he noticed you at the front desk.

“Sorry” he said softly. “I hope I’m not too late.”

You offered him a small kind smile. “We’re open.”

His shoulders relaxed. He brushed at a smear of paint on his cheek, which only made it spread more.

He cleared his throat softly, glancing down at the damp front of his suit. “Thank you… I’m looking for a book for my daughter, Ingrid. She fell asleep after our performance today.”

He gave a small, sheepish smile, tugging at the soaked fabric. “Hope you don’t mind my wet suit…If it’s not too much trouble, could you tell me where the children’s section is?”