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It was a good hush.
And in that quiet, a single seed began to glow. It looked little a brain — and carried warmth from beyond stars. The seed trembled as it slid from the sky, and the stars leaned closer to see.
When it fell, it did not fall fast. It drifted, slow as a wish, down through the dark. It passed moons that that shared their sun’s shine, and comets too quiet to sing. And finally, it landed in a place that had no name — a valley waiting for something to love.
The ground held the seed close. Rain whispered to it. The wind hummed lullabies older than memory. And one morning — though no one knew what a morning was yet — the seed opened.
From it grew a tree with leaves the color of night’s end and fruit etched, deep with ridges. The first people to find it tasted what waited inside the pods and began to weep. It wasn’t sadness that made them cry. It was the knowing that something as small as a seed could carry so much comfort.
They built fires. They ground the seeds into paste. They brewed it. They shared it. They said, This is warmth you can drink. This is hope you can taste.
And so it was that chocolate came into the world — a gift that began in the stars and found its way to every hand that needed gentleness.
If you listen closely, you can still hear the hush it fell from.
It sounds like a breath drawn before kindness.
It sounds like, Once upon a time.