The mattress was old and violently bounced whenever anyone on the bed made a sudden movement. The walls were brimmed to the ceiling with a lifetime’s worth of accumulated memories and objects her aunt was never able to get rid of, hidden away in suitcases and cardboard boxes.
She lay on the bed next to her cousin, each one holding half of the book. Their heads rested on the same pillow as they silently read and discussed the options at the bottom of every page, arguing about which was least likely to result in death. When they came to an agreement, they dog-eared the page, just in case they wanted to come back later and chose the other option, and flipped to the appropriate page.
Her cousin kept the “Choose Your Own Adventure” books in a neat pile in the corner of his closet. Every time she came over to his house, they snuck away to the room as soon as they could. A new path and a new beginning awaited them, marked by dog-eared pages amid memories in cardboard boxes.