I was just a Boy in a Glass Box. The entire week we've been here, there was no one to entertain. No tickets sold, no rides had, not even a single child's laugh heard.

"No one here wants to be entertained!" said the Ringmaster. "No one has bothered even to look at us. Why, it's as if they've forgotten how to seek their own joy."

"If they learned how in the first place." I'd reply. Apathy seemed to be a common companion between me and this town. A long week spent behind glass has introduced me to him. An acquaintance I'll be happy to leave behind. The Ringmaster told me tonight was our last night here, and this was the last time we'd ever enter this town, given the lack of business. I felt joy knowing that. Until I saw her walk through the gates of our carnival.

Her white dress seemed to glow in the moonlight, but not half as bright as her silver eyes. And her hair, like golden waves that washed over her silk-veiled shoulders. And that smile... If anyone had asked me moments prior if I'd believed in magic, I'd say they'd lost their minds for simply asking me this. But that smile. That smile was magical.

"One ticket, please." Each word was a song, and the way hope danced behind those silver rings. There were no words. All I knew how to do then was fulfill her desire. And in that moment, she desired a ticket. I know not for certain if I smiled then, but I simply don't see how I couldn't have. She walked past me, and carried my own eyes with hers. It took me several moments to realize how closely I held her quarter.

She stopped before our most prized musician, an aged Cellist. When he looked upon her, you'd swear he was a grandfather looking upon his eldest granddaughter. "And what do your ears wish to hear tonight, my dear?"

The Girl knelt, and gently placed another quarter in the Cellist's basket. "Whatever you know best."

The Cellist nodded, and gently ran his bow across the strings playing something I could barely hear through the glass. But it was sad, and sweet, and caused the Girl to sway, gently.

"How long do I get to hear you play?" she asked.

"As long as you are here, darling."

"'Tis a shame I can't carry your song with me after today." And she walked past him. The Cellist's music filled the courtyard, a perfect rhythm for the dancing of the stars above. The crowd ahead of her, the strongmen, and beast masters, and acrobats, all stepped aside to clear a path for her. I could not hear through the glass, but their greetings seemed kind. Kinder than anything they'd offered me. Envy did not touch me though, but satisfaction that even brutes and asses can recognize innocence and blamelessness when she shows her face.

I placed my hand on the glass, as if touching it could let me hear through it. Still, only the muffled, but sweet droning of the cello. Perhaps if he stopped playing, I could hear the Girl? But that would rob her of the joy of the Cellist's music.

The booth she approached was one I knew well. An impossible challenge. The Girl was given three baseballs, and four empty milk bottles to knock down. The grand prize had hung in his booth since the day I joined this circus. Wanted by all who saw it, earned by none. A simple wooden doll, crafted by the man who ran the booth. It resembled a child, with curly black hair and bright blue eyes. 

The first ball struck true enough, striking the bottle in the upper-left corner of the arrangement. Oh, the joy and exhilaration in her eyes. I could almost hear her cheers through the cello and the glass. Again, she made her throw. This one struck the lower-right bottle. I sighed when I saw the odds. Two bottles, one ball. Poor Girl. The hope and excitement in her eyes was so sweet. I'd hate to see it replaced with sorrow.

But then, when she threw her third and final ball, it struck the bottle off-center. She struck the upper-right bottle near its left side, sending it tumbling to the left, and it knocked the last bottle from its throne. All who watched cheered, and the Girl received her prize. Well earned. She held it just as I held her quarter.

She turned, and walked back past the Cellist, and past me. I whispered to her, "Please, look at me." But she did not. She could not hear my whisper through the glass, let alone over the Cellist. Damnable sound, how could something so sweet cause this much ache? But I dare not ask him to cease. I know he wouldn't even if I kicked and screamed, but I could never ask anything contrary to what she has requested.

Next, she approached the Fire-eater. He presented his hat, turned upside down. His voice was a closer to a growl as he asked, "And what does the fair lady wish tonight?"

"Whatever you know best." she said again. Even in pursuing entertainment, she extends a kindness few others offer. She lets those who perform present the act they have mastered the most, and take their own joy in. The fire eater smiled. The Girl placed a quarter in the man's hat, which he donned a moment later. He lit two wands, and twirled them both, weaving bright amber patterns in the air. He ran the wands along his bare arms, leaving trails of fire from his shoulders, to his fingertips. And yet, burns did not mar his flesh.

One wand, he inserted into his mouth, and when he pulled it out, there was no flame on it. The Cellist hit a crescendo, and when the Fire-eater blew upwards to the sky, a golden storm shot forth. The Girl's eyes went wide, and she clutched the doll tight. When the man laughed, rings of smoke puffed towards the Girl. I saw her cough, and then laugh with him.

When the Fire-eater bowed, he swiped his hands along his arms in a crossing motion, and extinguished the flames along his arms. The Girl clapped, and praised his talent, as far as I could see. She gave a subtle curtsy, and turned back towards me, clutching her last quarter. If she gives it to me, she would maybe speak to me. She's shown nothing but kindness to everyone she's met here. I must tell her at least that. As she approached, however, her joy grew fainter. Her steps, heavier. What sorrow could possible mar her beautiful face? Have we failed to entertain?

"Why does sorrow grow in your mind?" I asked. But she could not hear through the glass. She walked past me, and stopped at the Cellist. She placed her last quarter in his basket, and kissed his cheek. Envy washed over me. It should be my cheek which she graced.

"Thank you for the magical evening." she said, soft.

"Thank you for showing us your kind smile."

And smile she did, one last time, before turning back towards the gate. No, no she can't leave! Not before I've spoken to her! "Please, look at me!" I called, but between the Cellist's song, and the damnable glass that traps me here, she did not hear. "Please, turn back!" I cried. "Come back!"

Softer, "Please. Don't walk away. I will never know completion without knowing you."

She turned, finally, to look at me. And the gates closed, sealing her off from me. And I realized, she looked not at me, but at the carnival. Of course, why would she look at me? I'm just the Boy in the Glass Box. She turned back towards her home town, and held her doll low. She returns to her dreary, working life. And I return to my own lonely entrapment. Only God could hear me through the glass, and while I know He would never abandon me, it was impossible not to feel alone now. We could have had eternity. But she chose just this moment, and now it scars both our souls.