In the midst of a tender sunlight-drenched day, two paths intertwined, one steeped in love and the other in comic blunders. Whispers of giant ferns overheard an exchange:
"Harry, trust - this murky map will undeniably lead us to treasure!" But alas, Maggie shouldered her faux navigator with a too-real shrug. Sunshine danced over their heads like an actor on a stage, palpable nerves between Mel and the violin she mistook for a purple cabbage.
From the emerald horizon, a lone trumpet note, startled like an attic ghost, embraced their folly with open arms. "Do not follow the llama, it seems lost itself," the note warned ironically, for none dared take its advice before.