Mashed Potatoes

As I opened the door, the familiar smell of mashed potatoes wafted into my nose. At first glance, such an ordinary smell that every child smells at least once in a while from their kitchen awakened years of memories in me. First friendship, first love and later a relationship that must have ended for some petty reason. I saw it all clearly in front of me as a film in which I was cast as the lead. But all those memories were interrupted by the brand new look of the hall. Nothing was the same. Everything seemed sterile and alien to me. The white floors and walls unadorned with artwork by students could be mistaken for a hospital. If it weren't for the so ordinary smell, I would have thought I had the wrong place.

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