We had just moved to a small town in Sweden and I was fourteen again. My older sister (Charlene? Charlotte?) and I didn't feel welcome among the local population at first but that changed after a few parties that mainly she attended.
I remember the laughter coming out of her room when she had a couple of her new friends over for a sleepover and suddenly found myself a few years older, trying to find my way in a house that seemed to be constructed of only stairs. Some lead to only more stairs, some just hovered above the ground while others ended up against the side of a different set of stairs and others simply disappeared.
Occassionally I would encounter a couple of boys, teenagers, sitting on the stairs, pointing at me and laughing: "He really can't find the exit, can he?"
