That comment stayed with me all day, echoing in my head while we picked up the mess. Why only our house? Why would someone target us specifically?
An hour later, as I bent down to gather pieces of shattered pumpkin, something caught the morning light near the walkway. I reached down and picked up a small silver hair clip shaped like a delicate leaf.
It looked oddly familiar, tugging at some memory I couldn’t quite place. I turned it over in my fingers, studying the intricate design, then tucked it into my pocket and kept cleaning.
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