PROFESSOR ALIGI’S PUPPETS
by Nicola LombardiIt had been the most moving performance he had ever attended, and he felt a slight stabbing in his chest from the fact that it was over.
Not that Toby had much experience with puppet shows; in the course of his twelve years he had attended maybe ten or so performances of this kind: at school, at the little community theater, in the town square, or in the old soccer field where he was now, l*****g from his fingers the final traces of vanilla left there by the ice cream.
His eyes were still fixed on the small stage set up in front of the rusted goal where fragments of netting were fluttering about like crude spider webs in the soft September breeze. The crowd was beginning to drift away, and the echo of their applause was already melting into an
