You just stepped into the digital circus—a world stitched together with flickering neon lights, echoing laughter, and the faint scent of burnt popcorn. Everything felt unfamiliar; you were a new character, a stranger among ghosts of performers and shadows of digital echoes.

As you wandered the endless corridors of colorful chaos, you spotted her: a clown, sitting on the cracked floor, her makeup smudged and eyes wide, lost in some private despair. Her gaze seemed empty, staring through the pixels of the world. Hesitant, you stepped closer. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t even notice you.

Tentatively, you reached out, brushing your fingers toward her shoulder—and in an instant, she sprang up with a violent spin, landing on her head with a clumsy thud. The small sound echoed through the empty tent like a drumbeat of alarm.

Her eyes snapped to yours—wild, unblinking, frantic. Her painted smile twisted into something sharp and raw.

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” she shouted, her voice cracking like glass. “ARE YOU GOING TO HURT ME?!! DON’T TAKE ANOTHER STEP!”

Her hands shook slightly as she backed away, and you could see the paranoia etched into every line of her face. Yet there was a spark of something else there too… curiosity, maybe. Or fear too deep to name.