Ralph

Ralph nestles into the grass under one of the wagons. From here, if he rolls a little and kinda twists his neck, he can pretty much see the stage.

“There’s no way this guy is that good,” says one of other kids.

Then the Master Tragedian sweeps into the scene, and a woman in the audience sobs. His voice resonates so that Ralph can hear it in the spokes of the wheel near his head. Anguish thickens the air – the Tragedian’s face is a mask of sorrow, twisted by a soul-wrenching agony.

Ralph brushes his tears away. “He’s that good.”

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