Young Baldr Egilson took a deep, deep breath as he stepped through the front doors of his childhood home. The air smelled of lilacs and roses - his mother's favorites - as well as the sharp lemon tang of the cleaner used on the hardwood floors and the musky undertone of aged hickory. It smelled of home and with the scent came a flood of happy memories.
Behind closed lids he saw his mother's face bathed in bright sunlight, then purple and white flowers speckled with morning dew, and a beautiful sparkling pool of water at the base of a gentle waterfall. He had been so happy here in the earliest years of his life.
As he moved silently through the seemingly empty house, he felt completely at home yet also as if he was now a stranger to this place he had once called home. All the walls, doorways, and furniture were exactly as he remembered them - yet everything was strangely different... Changed in some subtle way he couldn't put his finger on.
Behind closed lids he saw his mother's face bathed in bright sunlight, then purple and white flowers speckled with morning dew, and a beautiful sparkling pool of water at the base of a gentle waterfall. He had been so happy here in the earliest years of his life.
As he moved silently through the seemingly empty house, he felt completely at home yet also as if he was now a stranger to this place he had once called home. All the walls, doorways, and furniture were exactly as he remembered them - yet everything was strangely different... Changed in some subtle way he couldn't put his finger on.
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