Seen at the Fullerton Station waiting for the Purple Line to Linden at about 8:30 a.m.
Ralph is big and heavy like a sandbag; his round face is dopey and unassuming. He’s wearing a shirt depicting the railroad that runs through his hometown, which seems fitting. One gets the impression that Ralph could have been a more imposing presence, even impressive, if he’d been one of the builders of that railroad. His feet, now clad in outdated sneakers, would help him to measure the space between the ties. His thick, pudgy hands would be calloused and strong, more than able to hold the spikes steady. He’d lay down tracks from coast to coast, cutting down forests, blasting through mountains. He’d roll along with the hell on wheels, an immoveable, impenetrable rock. He would command respect.
Ralph sips his blue raspberry slurpee and waits for the train, unaware that he’s nothing but a missed opportunity.
Gah, I know I should have posted earlier today, but I've become a bit distracted by Pottermore. I am not entirely certain I'll ever get any work done ever again. On the bright side, I'm in Ravenclaw, and my wand is elder, unicorn hair, 10 & 3/4 inches, unyielding. Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure...