Okay,” I said, “what’s your biggest fear?”
As always, he took a second to think about the answer.
“Clowns,” he said.
I just looked at him.
“What?” he said, glancing over at me.
“That is not a real answer,” I told him.
“Says me. I meant a real fear, like of failure, of death, of regret. Like that. Something that keeps you awake nights, questioning your very existence.”
He thought for a second. “Clowns.