You know that place downtown, near the pink chinese restaurant? Well, ok, it's green now, but it used to be pink, remember? And, ok, so they serve Italian food now, stop being so difficult. Back before you moved here, there used to be a staircase around the back of that restaurant. I don't know what happened to it. It was, well, almost hidden, there was this door covered by one of those hanging curtains they have there. If you were brave, like most of us were at that age, you could climb up the staircase to a tiny hidden room filled with, hm. What was it filled with, it's hard to remember exactly, it was a long time ago. But I think...I think they were butterflies, preserved in small glass cases, scattered all over the floor in huge, glittering piles. I never really knew how they got there, or why. One day I went there with my best friend and a suitcase, we were going to collect butterflies, just like my mother told me she used to do when she was a girl. We snuck up the staircase carrying the huge suitcase between us, sharing its weight. When we got to the top, the butterflies were gone. My friend called me a liar, he thought I had made it all up. All that was there was a rusty old sink, and a few mousetraps. We abandoned the suitcase by the side of the road, and never told our parents about it when they asked, which was often.