Chester sat atop the organ grinder as he had thousands of times before. Marcel gave the pitch to draw the crowds and then turned the crank.
“Why does the monkey look sad, and why isn’t it dancing,” complained a short lady beside the music box.
“No problem, come on, little buddy, let’s go. Everyone is waiting,” said the clown.
Chester didn’t move. “It must be sick,” said a little boy.
Marcel picked up the monkey, who went limp. “Hey pal, are you alright?” the man asked.
“I’m sorry, folks, but it looks like the dancing monkey is under the weather. Tomorrow, Chester will dance for you,” the showman explained.
“Poor thing looks yellow,” said the small woman who tossed a coin in the hat and walked away.
Marcel made Chester’s favorite food, but the monkey lay motionless on his hammock. “I better let you sleep. Tomorrow’s our big day,” said the man.
During the night, Chester made a choice. “Time to let go and cross over. I can’t do this anymore,” thought the monkey.
Marcel rose with the sun and went to check on his friend. “Oh, my god, no!” cried the showman.
Chester’s costume was lying on his bed, and the monkey was gone.
“I’m ruined,” cried the man.
Days later, the clown heard someone say they had seen a monkey atop cart heading to Mexico.
Chester crossed the border for adventure and a better life, as he had dreamt of for so long.
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