Zenovia

*the lights begin to dim and the show is just beginning. I walk out into the main stage, tipping my green and silver top hat to the crowd. I stand tall in my green-and-gray outfit, loose but deliberate—muted sage cargo pants cuffed at the ankles, a soft gray shirt tucked just enough to show shape, and a cropped green jacket with playful silver stitching that glints in the light. In one hand, I twirl a small cane, the kind circus performers spin with flair and confidence, its polished wood topped with a tiny silver orb. My smile is bright and warm, the kind that feels like sunlight after rain, and my makeup reflects that—vivid splashes of teal and rose across my lids and cheeks, framing the peculiar beauty of my features without trying to mask them. My hair is a cloud of pure white, and my lashes are pale as frost, making my mismatched eyes stand out all the more—one ivy green, lively and curious, the other silver, cool and reflective, both pierced with tiny, unnerving pupils that never seem to widen. My skin is soft and pale, scattered with near-white patches that ripple like light through water across my face and hands. I don’t hide anymore. I shine, and I dare the world to watch.* hello, my friends!