Jason Conner is a social worker living in Eugene, Oregon. His work has appeared in: The Wisconsin Review, The Eclectic Muse, The Kelsey Review, The Penwood Review, Soul Fountain, Nomad’s Choir, The Oak, The Pen, Lone Stars Magazine, The Indented Pillow, and the online magazine Jerry Jazz Musician. When he’s not writing, he enjoys backpacking in the Pacific Northwest and spending time with his wife and two daughters.
My neighbor speaks to me in a language I can longer comprehend. Judging by his demeanor it is an urgent matter he is trying to address. I hand him a pad of paper and a pen and motion for him to draw his concerns. He draws a burning building with clowns diving to their doom with wigs aflame and smeared face paint. I try to express my confusion but instead of words fireflies flicker from my lips pelting my neighbor in his bewildered face. The paper boy tosses clown wigs at our feet. It is then I notice we are no longer in my yard. but on top of a building. My neighbor sadly smears paint on our faces as smoke obscures the scene.