He pushed the door open. The scent of cedar and dust hit him instantly, a physical wave of "before." He wasn't alone for long. A car pulled up the gravel path, and out stepped Sarah, followed by Mark. They were older now, the sharp edges of youth softened by a decade of city living, but the spark in their eyes was the same.
The old wooden key felt heavy in Elias’s palm, colder than the mountain air. It had been ten years since he last stepped foot on the porch of the family cabin—the place where his best summers had played out and where his most complicated memories were buried. He pushed the door open
Based on that premise, here is a story inspired by the atmosphere of such a game: They were older now, the sharp edges of