While helping Grandpa tidy the shed, Martina found a key so small it looked like it was made for a dollhouse. It was copper, with a leaf engraved on it.
“What does it open?” Martina asked.
Grandpa looked at Martina as if remembering something far away.
“Look where the roots tickle the stones,” he replied.
Martina spent the afternoon exploring the garden: under the flowerpots, beneath the dry leaves, along the stone wall. At dusk, a tiny door appeared among the roots of an old apple tree.
The key fit perfectly. When it turned, the door opened with a sigh, and a staircase appeared, leading down toward a green light. Martina switched on a flashlight and went carefully down the steps.
While helping Grandpa tidy the shed, Martina found a key so small it looked like it was made for a dollhouse. It was copper, with a leaf engraved on it.
“What does it open?” Martina asked.
Grandpa looked at Martina as if remembering something far away.
“Look where the roots tickle the stones,” he replied.
Martina spent the afternoon exploring the garden: under the flowerpots, beneath the dry leaves, along the stone wall. At dusk, a tiny door appeared among the roots of an old apple tree.
The key fit perfectly. When it turned, the door opened with a sigh, and a staircase appeared, leading down toward a green light. Martina switched on a flashlight and went carefully down the steps.