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“I gave you a very special power the night you brought me the egg. I taught you to see things like I have to see them,” she said. She laid a wrinkly finger on my forehead. “Imagining them. And I see you’ve managed to make good use of that power.” I let out a sigh of wonder. “There’s no creature more amazing than one that can make its own light,” Grandma went on.
The Light of the Fireflies
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