Chapter 24: Boundaries Crumbling

"It's Clifford!"

"Hey, look, it's Clifford!" A dad pointed while his three-year-old stared off into space.

"Don't you want to take a picture with Clifford, the Big Red Dog?" My co-worker asked a child fiercely clutching his mother's legs.

As Clifford the Big Red Dog, I had a perpetual grin stretched across my face, but inside the suit, I squinted as sweat poured into my eyes. Even though it was only 70 degrees out, I essentially wore a giant jumpsuit, plus an enormous, heavy head on my shoulders. I felt sweat gather under my arms and along my back. I had two small eyeholes that were just tiny dots, set so far above my eyesight, that I may as well have been blind. Every so often, I caught a glimpse of a child's shrieking face or a parent's shin, or ceiling of the small tent I was in.

The city was holding its annual farmers market, but everyone participated, even the library. On the right side of the tent, city hall handed out brochures about the upcoming election. A few tents down,