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MiraTonight, there’s a walled garden waiting for us. The stones are cool beneath the night air, and in the middle of the garden sits a low wooden bench, silvered by a round moon.

BramMm. The kind of bench that seems to have been waiting all evening.

MiraExactly. I sit down carefully, and the wood gives that small, familiar sigh. Above the wall, somewhere far off, the city is still awake. Not loudly. Just a little hush of distant wheels, a door closing, then quiet again.

BramFar enough away to be someone else’s business.

MiraVery much so. Near my shoe, a leaf stirs. It’s curled at the edges, pale in the moonlight. And beneath it, um, there’s something small.

BramAh. A garden secret.

MiraI lift the leaf, and find a brass token. Round, warm-looking, though it’s been resting on cold stone. No writing. No clue. Just a tiny, ordinary circle of brass.

BramWhich is somehow more mysterious than a note.

MiraIsn’t it? I turn it over once in my palm and wonder who left it there, and why. Then the leaves rustle overhead, as if the garden has decided not to tell.

BramSensible garden.

MiraSo I slip the token into my pocket, with a small smile. Not to solve anything tonight. Just to keep it safe.

BramA very good use for a pocket.

MiraAnd I return to the bench. The moon stays where it is. The garden settles around us. And for now, that little unanswered thing is enough.

BramSleep well, friends. There may be another quiet wonder waiting just ahead.