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Back home, I sat on the floor with Stan and slid them onto his feet. They fit perfectly. He giggled and stomped in delight — and that’s when I heard it: a faint crackling sound from inside the sole.
I frowned, pulled the shoe off, and pressed the insole. The sound came again — crisp and delicate, like paper. When I lifted the liner, a folded piece of yellowed parchment appeared beneath it.
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