MidReal Story

Do you ever smell something that takes you back to when you were young?I wish I was able to identify where it could have come from, but I was too caught up in the moment, trying to remember the last time I had smelled it.It's all a haze now, but this moment was clear.I remember the weather was warm, the sun was high in the sky, and I could see the heat coming off the blacktop as I walked home from school.The smell hit me hard.It wasn't something I could ignore or pretend didn't exist; it was strong and familiar, pulling at my memory.It reminded me of my grandmother's house, but I couldn't remember what it came from or why it smelled so much like home.Maybe it was fresh-cut grass mixed with flowers or something my grandmother used to cook.

Scenario:You ever smell something that takes you back to when you were young? I, wish I was able to identify where it could have come from. It's all a haze now, but this moment was clear.
Create my version of this story
You ever smell something that takes you back to when you were young? I, wish I was able to identify where it could have come from. It's all a haze now, but this moment was clear.

James Carter

the nostalgic seeker,friends with Emily and rivals with Mark,tall with curly brown hair,introspective and curious

chat_icon

Emily Hart

supportive friend and confidante,friends with James and Mark,petite with straight blonde hair,empathetic and resourceful

chat_icon

Mark Benson

competitive friend and rival to James,friends with Emily and rivals with James,athletic build with short black hair,ambitious and secretive

chat_icon
Do you ever smell something that takes you back to when you were young?
I wish I was able to identify where it could have come from, but I was too caught up in the moment, trying to remember the last time I had smelled it.
It's all a haze now, but this moment was clear.
I remember the weather was warm, the sun was high in the sky, and I could see the heat coming off the blacktop as I walked home from school.
The smell hit me hard.
It wasn't something I could ignore or pretend didn't exist; it was strong and familiar, pulling at my memory.
It reminded me of my grandmother's house, but I couldn't remember what it came from or why it smelled so much like home.
Maybe it was fresh-cut grass mixed with flowers or something my grandmother used to cook.