The house I live in was previously one of my best friends'. As such, I've been coming up here for more than eleven
years. At the bottom of the garden, behind the fence, is a little alley. Behind that is the back end of another garden. In that garden are two little girls.
In all the years I've been coming up here, they haven't aged. They're exactly the same as when I was six, twelve, and now eighteen. They still run around shrieking and such, and they're both under the age of ten, still. And I know it's the same girls, because they recognise me and say hello and other things.
So apparently, there's a hole in time at the back of my garden.
