(c. 2000 or so)

Once about twenty years ago I was walking though the Beverly Center and out of the corner of my eye I caught somebody walking beside me. Glanced over and there’s a mime. This little dude, matching my long stride with a big loping gait and a idiotically serious expression, every movement I did, he did, in his little striped turtleneck and big floppy beret and whiteface. I stopped. He stopped. I turned toward him. He turned toward me. I stared. He stared back. I didn’t utter a word, he didn’t make a sound. I said if you don’t stop I am going to kill you. He said you can’t be serious. I nodded yes. He said sorry. I resumed walking and went about my business. He stood there, considering a career change.

When I passed by the spot on the way back, he was gone.