imagine, if you will dear reader, a hollow log sitting near a small pond. Water lilies abound and the croaking of frogs is so noisy that it is distracting you. there are weeping willows on the opposite bank and chest-high reeds surround this pond. The hollow log is from a maple tree, and if you look up, you can see where it was ripped off the trunk, though the scar has long since healed. hanging from another branch of the maple tree is a small rope swing, and you think when you look at it that it may have once been a tire swing. You do not know the reason for this. If you look beyond the pond you’ll see a small weather vane on top of a metal shed that you think holds landscaping tools. As you approach the shed, you notice a small metal padlock attached to a thick chain wrapped through the handles. Your vision clouds as you cry, remembering what happened in that shed. You continue walking past the shed and stare at the sun until your eyes and cheeks dry. So much sorrow, so much innocence lost, too many happy birthdays and too few first kisses. You came to like refined sugar in your early 20′s and gained quite a gut before you lost it. All of these things were years ago. Nothing much has happened to you since you started paying attention.

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