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... heat that burned, but something deeper. A quiet, living warmth that pulsed faintly beneath my palm like a heartbeat. The shell was smooth, almost glass-like, but firm and dense. That constant warmth, unwavering and calm, gave the sense that whatever was inside was still sleeping… and very much alive.

How was I going to take care of the thing growing inside this egg?

This year, it felt like I'd been collecting a lot of people I needed to look after. Like they were Pokémon or somet ...

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