The Tree of Lost Things

In the middle of Numberwood stood a tree that glittered like it had swallowed a rainbow. Buttons, ribbons, teacups, mittens — all hung from its branches, clinking softly in the breeze.

Maggie the magpie fluttered between them, rearranging her treasures. “Hmm, the spoon shines better next to the shoe,” she murmured, tilting her glossy head.

Below, animals gathered in a crooked line: a fox, a mouse, a bear, even a sleepy raccoon. Each held a puzzled face and one empty paw.

“Welcome to Maggie’s Lost and Found!” she chirped. “If you lost it, it’s probably hanging somewhere above your nose!”

Something clanked. A boot fell. Everyone ducked. Maggie giggled. “See? Things find you back when they’re ready.”

The fox dusted his whiskers. “Is everything up there?”

“Everything,” said Maggie proudly, “except my patience.”

Leaves rustled with laughter.