Back 4 hours ago, I occasionally tidied up my study room and pulled out a second-grade novel I wrote in high school. I flipped through the content and felt goosebumps all over my body. I suddenly felt the urge to relive it in a bad way, so I put this unfinished second-grade novel with only a summary of the story and a long and stinky beginning on my bedside, preparing to use it as my bedtime reading. . Then, I traveled through time.
Intention: That day, I traveled back to the unfinished novel I wrote when I was in my second year of high school. . .
