My brother and I recently spent an afternoon exploring our grandpa’s garage, a place that felt like stepping into a time capsule. The garage was packed with dusty shelves, old jars filled with mysterious contents, rusty tools, and boxes piled high with forgotten keepsakes. Sunlight filtered through the grimy windows, casting a warm glow on the cluttered space. It was the kind of place where every item seemed to hold a story, and we were eager to uncover each one.
