As I entered our house, a scent shot right into my throat. I racked my brain to find for a memory, but found nothing. I was very sure that the scent was from that one thing only. Time had passed, and it was still in the air. Then my brother showed me something. It was a book, my book.
I knew it. I just can’t blame or ask my brother about it, because I didn’t expect him reading one of my books. The only weird thing was, how did I know that my book was taken out from my box?