Once, when the wind was gentle, and the afternoon light whispered sweet secrets, a little girl named Clara found a silver key.
This key was shiny, and it whispered promises of adventure, of doors to worlds where toys could talk and clouds wore hats.
Clara kept the key safe, not in a box, not in a drawer, but beneath the roots of an old tree where no one could tread but the curious.
Sometimes, in the softest of dreams, the key would jingle a tune, and Clara would smile, knowing that somewhere, a door was waiting just for her.
One day, she wrote in the dirt beside the tree:
"Remember me, even when the world forgets, for in shadows, we still speak."
Murmured Truths | Dreamt Entireties