We took the path down the old, outgrown forest. Through the dried-out leaves stranded on lifeless branches the sunset casted vivid shadows. The hard-brown leaves lead a path of memories reminding us of cold autumn nights and rainy summer mornings. We could sense an unfamiliar feeling of danger. One that we had never felt before although we had explored these dark, green places before. We had been dangerous, fire breathing dragon slayers and had spent days fighting the medieval villains in the depths of this forest. Now we had seen an abandon warehouse, once we would think of as the dragons lair now we saw a concrete building inhabited by lifeless rats and spider-less cob webs covering the ceiling like the blanket we once used to build our forts of pillows and sheets. Inside, the concrete walls were covered in spray paint. The old barn doors had crumbled to the stone-cold ground or the once gorgeous, bamboo floors. Wooden planks and old coke cans had covered the floor. A terrible feeling of lost souls and memories had crashed over us like the waves that had took us on magical rides 23 years prior. On the walls of the building were dragons dripped in shiny red and green paint. These were the dragons of our imaginations. The fiery red and orange flames painted on the floor were the gates to our castles and kingdoms. At least they used to be. Now we had jobs, and kids and responsibilities. Our thoughts had changed from dragons, forts and monsters to work, taxes and bills.