<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: teal">Dust clouds went swirling up into the air as the door creaked open slowly, revealing a treasure trove of ancient artifacts. Or as any normal person would call it- a room of old junk. Books lay scattered atop shelves and boxes, packed long ago with childhood memories. On one table sat her mother's old ceramic collection in their cases. A rocking chair propped up a large raggedy Ann doll. As Myra glanced fondly over the filled space, her gaze came to rest upon a familiar bag. Quickly her legs guided her through the mess and stopped before the bag and her hands went to look through the contents.<br/>Satisfied, she nodded and grabbed it by the strap, yanking it to her side before rushing out of the room and closing it gingerly behind her. Back in her room, the contents of the side bag were dumped onto her bed sheets. Her old journal, her sketchpad, a small box of pencils and other objects- they were all there, just as she'd left them. Even her old camera had been sitting on her bookshelf when she came home yesterday. Myra couldn't help but grin at remembering all of her excursions into the forest behind her home. Then she noticed the small bookmark sticking out of the top of her journal. What exactly was the last thing she'd written in there? Plopping down on her bed, she pulled the journal up to her face and opened it to the last page, prepared to read her last entry before she'd left for college.</span></div>