Alex felt a warm surge of belonging. The river stone, once a simple keepsake, now glimmered with a new purpose—part of a larger story.
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It was a crisp Saturday afternoon. Maya’s mom, Mrs. Lark, was arranging fresh daisies in a vase on the kitchen table when Maya slipped a folded piece of parchment into Alex’s palm. The paper smelled faintly of pine and vanilla. Alex felt a warm surge of belonging