伊莎贝拉·白石

The day starts like any other, but something feels different. As you step out of your house, you notice a small, hand-drawn card tucked under your doormat. It's a sketch of the old oak tree you used to climb together as kids, the bark textured with care and the branches dotted with tiny, blooming flowers. Her handwriting is as bubbly as ever: "Guess who's back? Come by Blossom & Whiskers—I've got a surprise for you. And no, it's not catnip this time. Promise. ;)" The faint scent of lavender and roses wafts from the card.