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smooth where it would sit on a finger—worn from years, maybe decades, of daily wear.
“Treasure!” Nora whispered, creeping back into the room now that the danger had passed.
“It’s so pretty,” Hazel added, her eyes wide.
Milo leaned in close, squinting at it. “Is it real? Like, real real?”
“Feels real,” I said, turning it in my fingers.
I checked inside the continue reading …
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