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Weeks after our meeting, her trail did what her illusions always did: it unraveled into delightful chaos. A missing trophy would be found repurposed as a planter. The florist would send a bouquet, anonymous, to the mayor's office. A scavenger hunt would be staged by a neighborhood kid who'd been inspired by Bella's maps. Even the ordinary — a bench, a lamppost — seemed to hold the potential for revelation.

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