Nilah's favourite pebble

Nilah noticed it was missing just before bed — her pebble. The small, speckled one she always kept in her pocket. She checked the floor near her mattress, inside the pillow cover, under the mat, and in the folds of her bedsheet. Nothing. It wasn’t a shiny or unusual pebble, just one that had been with her a long time. It felt nice to hold, and somehow, it had become part of her day.
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She picked up her torch and stepped outside. The air was cool and still. She walked past the swing, around the curry leaf tree, and over to the corner where the cat sometimes slept. She crouched near the tap, looked under the stool where she’d peeled a guava, and checked the step where she had sat earlier in the evening. She even looked along the cracks in the stone path. There were plenty of pebbles, but not hers.
Appa came out to check on her. “Lost something?” he asked. Nilah nodded. “Just my pebble,” she said. He didn’t ask anything more. He just walked with her. They reached the old tree stump near the cowshed. Nilah stood still for a second, then bent down and moved some dry leaves aside. There it was — a little dirty, but still hers. She gave it a gentle wipe and tucked it safely back into her pocket.
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Later, in bed, Nilah rested her hand over the pebble through the fabric. It was smooth and cool again. She didn’t tell anyone about the search the next day. It didn’t feel like a big story. But she remembered it quietly — the walk, the stump, and the way she had found what she thought was lost. Some things, she thought, are just meant to come back.