Recently, I went into Toys R Us to buy my kid a surprise.

Walking around and looking for ideas, I find a small wooden art box that looked remarkably like the one I had when I was in kindergarten. I picked up this box, opened the cover, and it was as if I transcended both space and time; transported back to nap-time when I was a child.

I open my eyes to find my face pressed against a wooden desk. There's green crayon scribbled in sloppy circles. I pick my head up, and looked around. Other kids were still sleeping and the teacher was out of the room dimly lit by a single small lamp with a faint yellow glow.

There was no sound, save for the steady breathing of a dozen other sleepy kids.

One of those kids was this girl who was assigned the desk to the right of mine; I remember her so vividly; Rachel was her name. She had jet black hair and dark skin, and this tiny little voice; you would think a mouse was talking when the teacher called on her. Rachael was always very kind. She would almost always offer me something from her lunch bag, and while we ate, she would tell me about her dad, and how he put out fires and saved people who needed help.

To my left was Jack. Also a friend, who lived just a few houses down from me.

And in front of me, was Michelle. She was also very kind, almost like a little mother hen who would run up to the boy who took a little too long to get up after a playground scuffle.

The teacher quietly cracks open the door, and I put my head back down on the desk, not wanted to get caught moving about during nap time, and I drift back off to sleep.

I'm back in 2018.

Then I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around, and behind me is this woman, dark skin with jet black hair. She looks at me, smiles, and says, "Sir, are you gonna sniff that thing all day, or are you gonna buy it?"