The frogs would keep me up at night; their splashes and bellowing would pierce through the glass of my window. My sister, Karen, could sleep through it. Her light snores adding to the noise that kept me from the dream world I yearned for. I loved the frogs; until my head rested on my pillow. As a child, the frogs seemed like gigantic creatures, I could barely contain them with my dainty hands. They were nearly the size of a large dinner plates. Eyes, merely black beads of intelligence concaved out of the sides of their heads, burning with information on the murky waters of the pond they call home. I envy them for their knowledge, but I couldn’t disrupt the water lilies.
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