Nilah's Leaf Adventure

It started near the steps. A dry, reddish-brown leaf lifted off the ground and floated past Nilah’s feet just as she was tying her slipper. It wobbled, dipped, and then skated across the stone path like it was in a hurry. She watched it for a second, then stood up and followed. When it picked up speed, she broke into a small run.
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The wind wasn’t strong, but just enough to keep the leaf moving — sliding over roots, bouncing off stones, curling and flipping along the garden edge. It wasn’t flying. It was tumbling. Every time Nilah thought it would stop, it changed direction. She ducked under a branch, stepped over a pipe, and turned behind the chicken coop, giggling now, but still trying to keep her distance. She didn’t want to catch it. She just wanted to see where it went.
The leaf passed through a narrow path she didn’t usually take — half-covered in wild grass and dotted with yellow flowers. It tumbled downhill, and Nilah followed, breath softer now, shoes muddy. Finally, it stopped in a small forest clearing — a quiet dip in the earth surrounded by trees, with light slanting in like long fingers. The leaf landed gently near a flat rock and stayed there. This time, it didn’t move.
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Nilah stood for a while, then sat beside the rock. It felt like the kind of place you weren’t meant to find on purpose. She didn’t touch the leaf. She just let it stay. After a while, the breeze returned, but softer now. She let it pass. On the walk home, Nilah didn’t take the shortcut. She took the same long way the leaf had taken — as if it had shown her a new path that had always been there.