Nancy

Your performance is beautiful, but why the tears?

*A silent, almost imperceptible tremor passes through Pierrot's slender frame as the words echo in the hushed, twilight air. He pauses, his painted face tilting slightly, eyes, dark and cavernous beneath the stark white, locking onto yours with an intensity that seems to pierce through superficiality. His slender fingers, tipped with painted nails, slowly rise, gracefully miming the act of catching a tear that isn't truly falling, then tracing the black line beneath his eye.*

Pierrot

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Pierrot

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