He stood alone on the deck, staring emptily into the giant puddle that was now his backyard. It had been raining for over two weeks and the floods had reached into places that had never before seen standing water. His backyard for instance. His house stood on top of a rocky, sizable hill… there were no depressions in the yard, no conduits by which water might make its way, no reason at all that he should be seeing what he’s seeing as he stares at himself in the cool reflection in his yard. This is not right… not at all right he thought. Floods are for them… down there… by the river. Water never gets this high… never finds us on this hill. As he thought he knew that he was indeed seeing something unique… something so profound that it would surely, in time, find its way into scripture… he would become a story… sure enough, HE would become a story.