The Acrobat and the Magician

Chapter 1

It was the summer of 1889 when I first met Magi, an ambidextrous 15 year old who would write with both of his hands at the same time to amaze audiences. He was very amiable, and his smile could light up the world. Sometimes he would save his smiles for me, and these were the moments I lived for. After the shows, we would kiss in the shadows, and he would repeat my name, Rosa, over and over again.
I first came across Magi that summer on a walk through London, where I saw him performing for city folks in front of an austere, dirty building. At that moment, he was hopping across the street on one hand, his other hand and two legs rising straight into the air like blurs of color amidst the city folk. Magi seemed to be filled with confidence and complacence, as though he could never fall. I watched his vigorous form with amazement. The arid and stark city folks, who had given up on interesting lives long ago, watched with open mouths as Magi swung his legs down onto the ground into a split. When he stood up, however, I realized that the city folk were mortified at his performance. Couth ladies fanned themselves and shook their heads disapprovingly, while impudent  men jeered at Magi's performance.
"Where's your mother?" called one man. "I think I'd like to talk to her about the behavior of her son! Proper boys don't wear those-those-those clothes, and they definitely do not do those unnatural things with their bodies in front of large crowds! You will never be a man. Never!"
"She's dead", replied Magi in a stone cold voice. "And if you did not find my shows interesting, you would not come to watch them every day. Good day, Sir." With that, Magi ducked behind the building in front of which he held his shows. The man huffed and left with his wife, quickly followed by the rest of the crowd.