Once upon a time, in a little seaside town, there lived a girl named Clara who loved summer more than anything else. Summer meant bare feet on warm sand, endless ice creams, and the smell of salt in the air. But most of all, it meant evenings chasing fireflies in her grandmother’s garden.
As August was slipping away, Clara noticed there were fewer and fewer fireflies dancing in the twilight. Each night, she would wait with her jar, but the garden was growing quiet. “Don’t go yet,” she whispered to the night, “I’m not ready for summer to end.”
One evening, when the sky was brushed with gold and purple, a single firefly flickered in the air. Its glow was soft but steady, like a lantern held by a friend. Clara cupped her hands and the firefly floated inside.
“Why are you the last?” Clara asked softly.
The firefly twinkled brighter, and Clara felt the answer in her heart: Because summer must rest, so autumn can breathe.
Clara looked around—the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn, and the breeze smelled of apples and woodsmoke. For the first time, she realized that every season carried its own magic. Summer’s warmth, autumn’s colors, winter’s snow, and spring’s blossoms—they were all chapters in the same story.
The firefly glowed once more, then rose into the evening sky, leaving a trail like a shooting star. Clara didn’t feel sad anymore. She smiled, knowing that even though summer was ending, it would return again, just as bright.
That night, as she drifted to sleep, Clara dreamed of fireflies and golden sunsets—and of all the adventures waiting for her in the seasons to come.
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