something i'm trying to write on to cure my writer's block.
"Up the stairs, second door to the right," Jinyoung's grandmother tells him, patting his cheek fondly. "In case you've forgotten."
"Grandma," Jinyoung laughs, rolling his eyes fondly at her, holding both of her smaller hands in his. "It has only been eight years. The house is still as I remember it."
"Eight years changes a lot," grandma says ominously as she winks at him, leaving Jinyoung and his bags at the base of the stairs. She had offered to help him carry the bags upstairs, but Jinyoung didn't want his 70 year old grandmother to carry anything as heavy as his three bags up a flight of stairs, no matter how youthful and fit she is.
So Jinyoung pulls one of the bags onto his back, grabs the handles of bag two with his right hand, bag three with his left before he walks up the stairs. Just as Jinyoung remembers, the third step creaks a bit when stepped on, the same does the seventh.
The second floor looks the same as it did when Jinyoung was here during junior high, eight years ago. The pitched roof is a bit closer to his head now than it had been back then, but he walks along the corridor just fine, pausing in front of the second door to the right.