Granny?”
Granny patted the uniform. “Perhaps, my dear. But remember, it’s not just about the destination. It’s the journey—the winding alleys, the hidden gardens, the whispers of forgotten spells.”
And so, in that attic, where time wove its tapestry, Lily dreamed of London. The uniform rustled, as if urging her onward, and Granny’s eyes held the promise of magic. the town creir made a polcation it was inviting lily and granny to london the town crier read the scroll outside granny’s house