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The greatest group was determined by their comfort in company, not by their numbers.For hours they could sit under a tree conversing about nothing and everything, the type of conversations that made time seem irrelevant.Every individual was a piece of the puzzle—distinct colors, distinct forms—but when combined, the image looked whole.
They understood each other's eccentricities, the unspoken signals implying "let's go" or "stay a bit longer."Their relationship showed proof enough; they didn't need daily validation.Challenges arose, misunderstandings occurred, yet they always returned.
They provided an anchor for one another in a society going too fast.The ideal clique was a safe haven you could keep in your heart, not only a group of pals.