When I was five years old

I am something out of a picture book,  making quests up the stairs.  Each wooden stair was the stump of a tree; swinging one leg in front of the other, I made it to our first floor. Our house floated right over a church. The pews were a dull maroon color and the aisles were huge. I use to think if you weren’t careful, you could never leave that place. You can’t stay down there at night either. I never did find out why that was necessarily.

From time to time, our couches were as wide as boats and the cushions never seemed to end.


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