Old memories
The attic was full of dusty boxes and trinkets from our childhood, each item bringing back memories of being mistreated by my siblings.
I came across old school projects, photo albums, and board games we used to play—except I was often excluded.
A rusty tricycle in the corner reminded me of the time they had hidden it, only to laugh when I cried.
The air was thick with dust and nostalgia, each object a painful reminder.