100-Word Fiction: ‘How Things Change’

I have a clear memory of a moment when I was a young boy of around nine or ten years old. Perhaps it was the summer holidays or Easter. I think I must have been bored and was in my room sat on the bed or floor. I picked up some old toys to play with – it probably doesn’t matter what they were. Anyway, I began to try and play with them but couldn’t think of how. It seemed childish and I felt embarrassed for myself, trying to be entertained by kids’ things. Maybe nothing was ever the same again.