Olivia
The square was buzzing with activity when Angela and I returned to the food drive.
The sun was high, casting long, playful shadows that danced with the rhythm of the breeze. White tents were erected everywhere, each fluttering with the symbol of the town—a mighty oak tree—stitched onto them.
The scent of warm food, a mix of spices and fresh produce, filled the air, making my stomach growl in response.
Determined to make a difference, Angela and I headed straight back to our designated station, nestled between a stand handing out clothing and another offering warm beverages.
I glanced over, seeing Mrs. Parker dishing out cups of steaming soup to children who watched with wide-eyed wonder. Beside her, Mr. Roberts was busy entertaining them with tales of ancient
