In the quiet corners of a twilight heart, where shadows stretch like a cat's laziness after an autumn sun...
A child wandered, basket in hand. It wasn't for food or anything so mundane. No, indeed...
She sought fireflies of thought, those curious beings that glimmer with half-formed ideas.
And with each spark she caught, a story half-told took shape in her remembering mind.
One flickered orange, like the fading sun's goodbye, whispering of secrets the moon held close.
Underneath another, the faint echo of laughter lingered, as if haunted by a joyous ghost...