Word Count : 247

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It was the best present he had ever received, a small wooden box wrapped in faded red paper that smelled faintly of sandalwood. Arjun opened it slowly, revealing an old compass with a brass lid, its glass scratched but still clear. A note lay beneath it: *Follow where your heart points.* The handwriting was his grandfather’s, though the old man had ____ ________ ________ __________ ________ ________ ___ ___ ________ _________ __________.
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