"I was a professional clown."
At Qin Ran's gesture, the weary-looking man sat on the sofa and began his story.
"I used to bring laughter to so many people, but I couldn't make myself smile, no matter what I tried."
"They said I had depression."
"A clown with depression. Isn't that ridiculous?"
As he spoke, the weary-looking man looked at Qin Ran.
There wasn't a trace of mockery in Qin Ran's calm expression, and the man sighed in relief. He had been worried Qin Ran would be like the psychiatrists he had seen before, concealing their amusement after hearing his story-as a clown, he could spot that sort of mockery all too easily.
A single glance was all it took.
Fortunately...
There was none.
"My wife did so much to try to cheer me up."
"She told me stories and jokes, and even dressed up as a clown to make me laugh."
"But none of it worked."
"So she decided to take me on a trip to clear my head."
"By then, I'd almost forgotten what it meant to connect with someone, but on the day we left, I suddenly felt a little happiness."
"That's right!"
"Happiness!"
"I could actually feel the corners of my mouth lifting, but... there was an accident. A speeding truck hit the car we were in."
"I survived."
"My wife died."
The weary-looking man's eyes grew redder. He covered his face and let out an agonized moan.
Qin Ran didn't interrupt him. His eyes rested quietly on the space behind the man, as though he were simply letting him vent.
After a dozen seconds or so, the man calmed down.
"After that, not only could I no longer smile, I couldn't sleep either."
"My wife filled my thoughts."
"Whenever I closed my eyes, it was