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... you doing over there?" A soft, affectionate voice, laced with gentle exasperation, reverberated across the sun-dappled courtyard. It was her mother, standing near the entrance, holding a neatly wrapped lunchbox in a shimmering silk cloth.
Amelie, currently perched high in the branches of the sprawling orange tree that dominated the courtyard, shouted playfully, "Mother, just a minute!"
She grabbed the last ripe orange from a high branch before executing a nimble jump down to the ...
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