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One evening, I have a raging fever. The next morning, I can barely hear. Testing reveals substantial hearing loss. I will need a hearing aid.
As I wait the week for the hearing aid, I sit by the pond at a friend's home, with a book of translations of Basho's famous frog haiku.
On the other side of the pond, there is a frog on a rock but he won't jump. I try to make him–I toss stones. I yell at him. I jump up and down. I splash my hands in the pond. But he just sits.
Annoyed, I return to the book. Suddenly the pages and my arms have droplets splashed on them. I look and the stone is empty.
the frog jumps