Bella had started a treasure hunt for seashells, spurred by tales her grandmother had told her when she was a little girl. She’d heard seashells carried the voice of the sea. Dulcet murmurs full of secrets to be understood by keen ears and a quiet mind. But all the seashells she’d collected held barren echoes. A forlorn silence. As if the sea had departed the shells which treasured its heart with a cold goodbye.
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Nomad Writer 
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