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Chapter 23 Melting Ice Cream Popsicles

  • The ice cream popsicles in our hands had melted, dripping down like a sweet syrup around our feet, casting a needle-like pattern in the grass. The leaves of the oak tree above us rustled in response to a gentle summer breeze, creating a soothing melody. A pair of sparrows had chosen a thick branch for their nest, and the male sparrow fluttered away in pursuit of nourishment for his newborn and mate.
  • Standing beneath the tree's comforting shade, we observed the avian family's struggle to care for their offspring. The mother sparrow diligently pecked at grains of food, chewed them with care, swallowed, and then regurgitated the nourishment into the tiny beak of her baby.
  • "Arthur?" I heard her say my name. The way she pronounced it added a layer of sweetness and gentleness to my otherwise not-so-soft name.
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