What began as a simple morning task turned into a moment that changed how I see my home—and my own memories.
The sun had just started to rise, casting soft light across the yard. I stepped into the garage to grab an old toolbox I hadn’t touched in years. It was supposed to be quick. Instead, it became a quiet journey into the past.
The garage felt like a world apart from the rest of the house. The air carried the familiar scent of old wood, metal, and dust. A single light bulb overhead flickered, barely pushing back the shadows in the corners. As I moved boxes and containers aside, tiny dust particles drifted through the light, floating gently in the stillness.
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