“Wish I was certain I’m happy,” says the Tin Woman to the Clown.
“It’s like juggling,” replies the clown, throwing two, three, then five balls in the air. “Just keep practising, until you get the hang of it.”
“Fake it until you make it?” asks the Tin Woman. “That working for you?”
“Well I’m happy right now, aren’t you?” He grins.
She was happy. But then she was sitting next to a clown, whose purpose was to make people smile.
He’s still faking it, she thinks, his certainty lies in his lies.
His kind of happiness could never be real.