It was the winter of 1969 and Sherry Broadwalk was shopping with her mother. An innocent three year old who did not know what played ahead of her, hoped out from her mothers silver chevy station wagon with her favourite bear in hand. Its fur grey, torn and mattered to the cloth it held to. Her mother clicked her hip against the edge of the door, slamming it behind her daughter with arms full of a blue laundry basket, packed to the brim with old hand-me-down clothing. A leg of denim blue jeans hung over the edge, holding the remains inside.

“Ma’ where we going?” A question so noticeably accurate for a three year old as she struggles to follow her mothers long-legged shadow across the car park, stepping largely over the yellow and black speed bump as if it were lava. It could of very well been.

“We are going to bring some good to the world.” Her mother softly responds, avoiding the gaze of an elderly man struggling to find his keys from across the carpark. The old always loved looking at the young as if reminiscing what it was like. If one could even remember a time when they were three. Sherry throws a glance back to the car watching as the rear blinkers wink a rhythm of orange in the form of three before her foot collides with the gutter. The sloshing of water moves around her small foot before descending into the razor cut drain way and into the sewer bellow. She stumbles before catching herself on the gutter edge, peering down the stream of water wondering just where it was going. For a moment, she wanted to flow down into the drain system and have a look for herself but —

“Sherry.” Her mother sighs, balancing her basket on her right hip before extending a hand down to her small daughter “You’ve gone and gotten yourself all wet.” Her mother, red curly hair, left in a fuzzy tanglement down to her chest, body slim to the core — she was a well built woman with a kind heart and a husband who was prone to living life on the waves of alcoholism. With a firm hand around her daughters right arm she hauls her up and stands her up on the chewing gum spotted pavement. It was typical for Illinois, black spots of disrespect left clinging to the pavement from the mouths of those too lazy to dispose of it in the bins. The rain was coming down harder now as the man found his keys and hurried into his car, avoiding the eyes of the mother and young child as if he knew something they did not. It was an odd movement, as if he were running away from something so dangerous. The mother stares, eyes squinted in confusion, making a suspicious eye contact with the mans eyes in his review mirror before his car came to life.

“Come on darling lets go.” Her mother pressed as every nerve in her body screamed at her for attention. There was something off-putting about that old man but daren’t she know what. Together they walked into Thrifties, a tall blue building that smelt of secondhand materials and layers of fallen dust. Mary Broadwalk always hated places like these but believed it did good to participate in giving. A musical beeping of cashier checkouts and murmured conversations accompanied with the soft rustle of plastic bags swept through the air as she hauled her child to the back of the line. Letting go of the small wrist Mary allowed herself to readjust the weight of the basket on her hip as it was digging in and leaving quiet a mark.

“Ma’ look.” Said the small child, eyes wide with amusement — Mary had taken her eyes off of her for two seconds and she had run a muck, no wonder she couldn’t take her anywhere. The small child, with its soft blonde curls had crouched beside an awaiting basket ready to be collected, her teddy bear now disregarded at her feet as she rummaged around the stack of old handkerchiefs — washed of course, places like this always had a policy — tea towels and old clothing belonging to that of what had to be an elderly woman — A large one at such. With hands dug deep past high waisted jeans and silk dressing gowns she pulls out a small plush clown. Its eyes nothing but black buttons, hair red like cotton candy and black eye brows and red lips stitched high — It was an odd looking doll, one that had been passed down generation after generation, loved dearly and left to move on. It was surely loved, if loved was the right word. The little girl held it high in her hand, a large smile dancing on her face as she showed the creature off to her mother. Her mother smiled, it was a warming site that her daughter could find such love in a thing so old and mattered.

“No sweetie, put it back, we don’t know where thats been.” Mary scowls sweetly trying not to attract the attention of others waiting in line clutching woven checkered zip-up bags and plastic baskets similar to her own.

“An elderly man just dropped that one by about five minutes ago.” An elderly woman wearing a navy blue wooden vest jacket over a violet sleeved button up speaks up, turning her attention to the small family. “He seemed to be in an awful hurry to leave the place, I’m sure it wasn’t meant to be in there.” What an odd statement coming from a woman who knew nothing about — “Sorry dear, I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’m Billy, I live next door to Mr. Brackensby — his wife passed away a week ago and he’s been awfully distracted —“ She rambled in the way of trying to explain herself through all the details the world could give but she didn’t need to explain.

“The man wearing the long cargo paints and the the dark vest ..” Mary stuttered, gosh it was an awful thing to stutter in the presence of such a matter. “ Yes, he was such a beautiful man..” She smiled before sadness took the light from her wrinkled sockets, smile faded and eyes sunken. “I’m sorry i shouldn’t burden you with my grief …” She turns her attention down to the small child picking silently at the buttoned eyes of the small clown.

“And what is your name missy.” The small child shoots her gaze upwards to the tall shadow of the woman face, white light spilling around her featured from where her appearance broke the way of the overhead fluorescences — perhaps just one. “Her name is Sherry” The woman smiled at the mother tenderly as if applauding her for creating such a beautiful being.

“Sherry, what a beautiful name …Tell you what that doll could use some loving from such a sweet child like yourself young madam. “ The child beamed brightly hugging the doll closer to her chest, its beady eyes and stitched red smile beaming brightly as if it had finally found the love it deserved.

“And what, my dear will you call your new friend?” The mother chuckled, already feeling the need to surrender to her daughters graceful smile and happy heart. For a moment, perhaps two Sherry did not know the name of her newly found friend but with the happiness dancing in her heart she began to sway, the clowns red booted legs and spotted overalls moving with her before tucking her chin into the back of its head.

“Bozo” The child whispered.

“What a lovely na—“ The woman began.

“Next.” The cashier demanded

“You have a lovely day.” The woman kindly departed before the child turned to her mother.

“Ma’ can we keep him.” It was a him and his name was Bozo. For a moment her mother had hesitated, believed her daughter had gone completely bonkers, she had never been a fan of dolls, especially clowns. The porcelain collection her grandmother had stashed behind a mirrored glass cabinet was enough to remind her why, but this was different, it was her daughter and she needed to move on from the teddy bear.

“Aw ok, put him in.” Mary surrendered earning a winning grin from her toddler.

“Next.” The cashier called as Sherry ran to the counter pushing the doll up on top of the green countertop.

“Dis one fo’ me.” She exclaimed, she had not been educated properly apart from her fathers teasing ways and sluggish sayings. Her ten fingers gripped the countertop in an attempt to be recognised.

“And this one” Mary chirped lifting the basket “Is for donation.” The woman continued to chew viciously on a colourless piece of chewing gum, face frowned and unamused.

“Donations go down there.” She points to a stack of already heightened baskets beside the counter to her right before scanning the small toy — its smiling features and button eyes flash red under the scanner before she places it back on the countertop, ignoring the grasping hands of the small child. Mary discards her basket at the end of the stack, not wanting it to fall and spill everywhere before returning to Sherry and lifting her up to sit on her waist.

“That’s twelve dollars mam’” The woman blankly stated, her white and blue over shirt clearly not a happy indication that she liked her job at Thrifties as her name badge was smudged out, unrecognisable and lost.

“Twelve dollars!” Mary squeaked, it was an awfully high price for a doll that was secondhand, but without hesitation she reached into her wallet and drew the amount.

“You have a good day mam.” She spoke as if scripted as Sherry lent over trying to grab her new friend before Mary grabbed it and handed it to her. A strange feeling spread through Marys chest as if her conversation with the older woman should be something rather alarming but glancing down at her daughters smiling face she pushed those thoughts to the back of her head and headed out to the pouring rain before depositing Sherry in her carseat and getting into the drivers seat. The rain hammered down like the dull patter of rain on a plastic overcoat as she looked into the review mirror. two blank eyes floated in the mirrored glass watching as a shadow of a clown sat beside her daughter before vanishing. She was surely going mad but little did she know — this was only the beginning.