He is so happy, he is a clown for a moment, painted on smile and big feet. She knew it wasn't real, that it never could be...but she could never tell him, never wrench him away from that happy place. So he grinned, and his eyes sparkled, and she smiled slowly in return, her eyes mute. It's all a game, an adventure, an illusion, a vale of tears. However you want to term it, feel it, be beyond it...that seems to be what you get, certainly what you arrive at. Was it more real for him or for her? Did being a happy clown make him right, delusional, both or neither? Did her being questioning, cautious, depressed, distant...make it right or better for her? She screwed her eyes tight shut. She wanted to scream, she wanted to shout until she was hoarse. But she didn't. She opened her eyes, stared at his questioning, hesitant gaze. She sighed inwardly and stuck on a goofy grin, the one he always liked, the one that said: hey, everything is alright with the world. The thing is she thought whilst smiling, everything is alright with the world - your world, but what about mine?