Prompt

A single, obsidianblack key shaped like a folded origami crane floats suspended in the center of a vast, still chamber lined with walls of solidified breath, its surface not smooth but etched with a network of microfractures that pulse with faint, bioluminescent light in the rhythm of a forgotten lullaby. The key does not unlock anythingit remembers. Each groove and crevice is a memory not of a place, but of a feeling the weight of a hand on your shoulder during a silent moment of understanding, the taste of rain on skin before a storm, the warmth of a blanket that was never yours but felt like home. Around it, the chambers floor is not stone, but

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