The tea was cold. But tempers were burning. I wasn't sure why my mother had dressed me up in a frilly pink gown and rose colored slippers just to bring me to a lunch with her supposed "friends from the palace," but I was tired of the fake smiles and even faker pleasantries. Even as a young girl of only ten, I could tell these people were not friends and I wasn't interested in dining with them, even if it did involve delectable sweets. I considered sneaking off, or even jumping into to water. Anything just to get away from the uncomfortable gathering that was taking place.

Then the mime came.

He sat down in the empty chair, the one left vacant in respect of the deceased queen, and presented a single pink balloon. The other guests stared at him, aghast, but in true mime fashion he didn't say a word. I was transfixed. My mother was not. She glowered at me upon seeing my interest but did not burst out with an exclamation like she usually would. It was as if she had become a mime herself. Then everything went silent. I couldn't take my eyes off the balloon. It was as if everything around me was nonexistent. Everything but me, the balloon, and the mime. When I met his eyes, they were an unworldly shade of orange with glimmers of blue around the irises. The only other person I had ever seen with those eyes had been... my aunt. The queen. On him, they were filled with such sorrow that tears came to my own eyes. It wasn't until he stood that I finally looked around to see that everyone was frozen. Their mouths were open in the start of a protest that had never left their lips. And never would. Some had forks half raised to their mouths, carrying bites of food that they would never taste. I reached out to my mother but my hand passed right through her. Then, one by one, the guests disappeared. I turned to the mime, astonished and horrified at the empty seats surrounding the table. Seats that had just been filled not two seconds ago. Not is was only me and him. He raised his fork to the balloon, and I knew what he was going to do, but there wasn't enough time to reach out and stop him before the balloon popped and he was gone too. The last thing I saw before he disappeared was the twinkle of the late queen's eyes, ghostly and mournful. And then I was alone.