“You’ve got a streak of makeup down your cheek.”

“Yeah. I know. It’s supposed to be that way.”

“What?! To make you look like you’re crying?”

“Yup. See the teardrop at the end of the streak?”

“Oh yeah. I didn’t see it before. Kinda sad. Don’tcha think?”

“Yeah. But I was painted this way.”

“I s’pose. Still, you gotta bring sunshine don’tcha?”

“You’d think. But with so many people and their coulrophobia these days…”

“Yeah. I know what you mean. Clowns don’t get any breaks anymore.”

“Hey! Don’t cry. You’ll smear your paint.”

“Nah. It’s greasepaint. Seems to only smear with sweat. And lots of it.”

“Boo hoo. Now, I’m gonna cry too.”

“Well at least your face matches your cry.”

“Yeah. I s’pose so.”

The two clowns hugged. All they could do was cry in each others’ arms.