As a child, whenever I walked to school in the rain, the earthworms frightened me.

On the last day of the trial, I suddenly remember a dream in which a voice told me the meaning of life.

I’d pull back the curtains and stare at the headstones in jagged rows beside a vacant hot dog factory.

Those mornings shivering at the mean edge of the public pool were worth it for the moment when you’d slide into the deep end.