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She didn’t answer. She just hugged the backpack tighter like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
He looked again. Still no one.
She didn’t resist. He wrapped her in a thick blanket, her tiny frame almost disappearing inside it. She sat on the edge of his couch, still clutching the backpack, her eyes flickering toward every unfamiliar sound in the house.
“Are you cold?” he asked. She nodded once.
“I’ll make some hot chocolate,” he said. “Do you like marshmallows?”
She gave the faintest nod again, still silent.

As the kettle boiled, he opened her backpack to look for any kind of ID. Inside were a few crayons, a juice box, a small stuffed rabbit missing one ear, and a folded piece of paper crammed into the side pocket.
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