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June 8, 2001
NOT A TRUE STORY

When I was younger, we lived by this steep hill, which resembled a miniature mountain. It became one of those things that, in its familiarity, you barely notice, like a freckle on your arm or something. We would ride our bikes on the sidewalk at the base of it, but here is the strange thing. After it rained, the sidewalk was wet for days after the rest of the town had dried. I discovered years later that there was a small lake at the top, and every time it rained for us, it flooded up there.