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She rarely wore sunglasses. But even when she did, her sad eyes seemed to pierce through them. A faint smile, on rare occasion with teeth, could not convince the onlooker that she was happy. She smiled little. Those smiles were there for everybody else’s sake. So unsuccessful was she, at happiness that we all eventually abandoned her, making her worst fears come true.

Maybe the heat wilted her dreams, or the humidity stifled her aspirations, more than likely she should have been honest with herself. But who are we to judge in absentia what so skillfully was hung out to dry so many years ago. No mercy was found in our hearts then. And now, it no longer matters. We want to comfort the dead and soothe the living. We killed her so many times, and then were so disappointed when she called us afterward to find out how we were doing, that on the day they called from the hospital, tears had to be feigned, for other's sake. And so in death she must have smiled at last, or better yet, finally allowed herself to cry and be bound to us in the perpetuation of her three ring circus.

I still miss you. Cackle all you want