Small hands

The circus was coming to town. I, for one, was not excited. 

“Circus” means peanuts, clowns. It means carneys, small hands, and frowns.

It means my co-workers won’t shut up. I thought I hated talking about the circus more than the circus itself.

How completely wrong I was.

My boss volunteered me, so I walked into the ring, visibly reluctant. The crowd got a kick out of that.

As expected, the carneys were aliens. They beamed me to their spaceship. Now I’m 42-billion light-years from earth, a distance I’ve been told by “scientists” was impossible to cover in forty-five minutes.

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