“Nothing, just books, keys, I think a sweatshirt? Oh, and my wallet too, though some of my cash is,” I point at my foot, “in my sock.” I don’t know why I’m telling her all of this.

She shakes her head angrily. “Can you be quick, then?” she says. “Get in.”

“Where exactly am I going?” I ask.

“In the booth. The puppet theater. In! In!” And she shoos me with her hand, until I’m opening the little door on the side of the booth that leads to what I suppose could be termed “backstage.”

“Okay,” I say. I look at the front of the booth before I go in. There’s a sign painted above the stage in bright bottle-green and blue paint that reads, “Our Patent Show of Bludgeoning and Beating! The Greatest Fun by the Sea!”

“Just man the tickets,” the woman says, and she sighs one more time, and leaves back through the red curtain, following a couple of people carrying plinths and tools.

“Out of my way!” I hear the woman shout.

I close the tiny door behind me and sit down on the small wooden stool inside. My legs don’t really fit behind the stage. They bend awkwardly upward so my knees are above my belly button. I try to orient myself.

I look at the stage in front of me. There are tiny floorboards that go all the way across it and little patches where the varnish has worn off, I suppose where the feet of marionettes have come into contact with the wood. There’s a tiny trapdoor too. Around the edges of the stage, glove puppets are hanging up. Punch and Judy, with Punch holding a wooden bat that is huge relative to his body size, and Judy painted—and therefore perpetually stuck—with a fearful expression on her face. Three puppets with smaller plastic heads and felt costumes are tied together with a cord like a bunch of flowers and also strung up; they are the king, the queen, and the devil.