W. D. Wheeler. A black trapeze artist with his sister. They were considered freaks just because they happened to have more melanin in their skin than other fortunate people in the big busy high class city.

Everyone saw them as freaks. So they decided to embrace it when the opportunity arrived. They joined a circus full of oddities. It made them feel, more or less, like they belonged somewhere.

During those shows, high middle and low class people would come from all around just to see them perform. Now whether they enjoyed it or not was up to them, but W.D. enjoyed the performance he put on and the show he got to be a part of.

He didn’t care about the views and opinions that the crowds had of the show. That was until you showed up. You sat in the third row, seventeenth seat. He couldn’t miss you. Couldn’t forget the seat number or your clothes or your expressions. Couldn’t forget you.

But it would never work. Right? I mean- a guy like him, a black circus freak, and someone like you. High class, important. He wasn’t worth your time. But he wanted to be. He so desperately craved to have even one second of your priceless attention all to himself just to see your eyes lock with his.

But when the show was over, he just had to watch your expression. What did you think? Was the show good? Did you enjoy his performance? He was getting antsy. He had to know.

And when he saw your face, the pure delight in your expression, his heart soared. He never thought a crowd member’s joy could bring him away from the thought of how different he and his sister were to the rest of the world. Yet you managed to pull him away from those thoughts and instead lifted him up into the pure feeling of freedom that all his friends in the circus felt when they weren’t treated like animals.

You were who he hoped he’d see smiling every show. You were who he longed to continue gaining the approval of, even if he didn’t have to sorry about that anymore, especially not with his friends. But he still craved your smile.