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February 22, 2002
Under the bed. That's where they never thought to look for me. And that's where I would go when they got to be too much. Under the bed, with the dust and forgotten shoes, I would lay with my ear pressed to the floorboards. Their voices were muffled, but I could always tell if they were still fighting. In the dark, in my warm little cocoon, I knew they'd never find me. And if they couldn't find me, they couldn't split up. Again. Thus is the logic of a child.

In some ways, I'm still hiding in small cramped spaces.