Everything seemed…bigger.

She can distinctly remember those oak-paneled walls being as tall as cathedrals, and that door over there higher than a monument. She can remember running around and screaming nonsense on that dark blue carpet, though maybe it was green, or yellow…

So much has changed that it’s overwhelming, a little bit frightening.

Back when she was in kindergarten, this was her favourite place in the whole world. It let her imagination run wild, the acres of boundless energy a toddler had spilling out on the teachers and not on her weary parents. She had paper, and pen, and with it she scratched out stick men and chicken and fantasy dog-lizards.

It was fun.

And now, coming right back as a 24 year-old character design artist for an RPG game, it’s nostalgic. So much of the world she had not understood back then, but she let her creativity flow. Now; wiser, older, still as fun and creative; she looks back and smiles at the way she viewed the world so vividly.

Maybe it was the right idea to come here for inspiration. Already, she can feel the tugging sensation of an idea forming in her mind, a character, a scenario, a work of art.

She loves her job. She loves to create characters with rich backstories and vivid features, characters so dynamic they seem real.

Her heels click on the wood paneling as she walks across the floor. She’s been allowed back here as a visitor and someone scouting for a kindergarten for their child. She’s not lying, either; her little Sasha would love this kindergarten.

“Miss Amy Parkinson, come along, this way. Our children are performing a play of Little Red Riding Hood.” the assistant waved at her.

She opened the doors and was greeted with a small theater with 2 rows of seats. She sat down with a content smile, ready to see the children perform. She saw some nervous, some excited, some happy at seeing their parents in the seats. Seeing them so enthusiastic warmed something in her soul.

And then they started the play. The wolf was over-exaggerated as the little characters barely contained their laughter. Little red riding hood’s voice was squeaky and almost like a song, along with a skip and wide smile. The little girl playing her started giggling sometimes.

The whole play was warm, adorable with all the mistakes they made. But the enthusiasm was clear - it was in the way the tiny children concentrated so hard on their lines, even if they stumbled. It was in the little girl’s smile and the wolf’s impressive growling. It was in all the little things young children - not embarrassed or self-conscious - did with enthusiasm.

And it fueled something in Amy. Something heartwarming and inspiring.

She already had the new idea for her character in mind. And it was going to wow the world.