Once upon a time, in a cozy little house with a door that creaked like an old swing, lived Hannah. Hannah had hair the color of autumn leaves and a pocket always full of treasures—shiny buttons, a tiny silver spoon, and a feather that tickled her nose when she sneored. One evening, as she was tucking her favorite stuffed bunny into bed, she heard a sound like a hiccuping teapot: Pssst! Pop! Pssst!

Curious, Hannah tiptoed to her closet, where the noise was coming from. The door swung open with a Squeeeeak!, and—WHOOSH!—a gust of wind smelling like warm cinnamon rolls whisked her inside. She tumbled down, down, down, landing with a Plop! on something squishy, like a giant marshmallow. "Welcome to the Underground World of Lost Objects!" chirped a voice.

Hannah blinked. Around her, the air smelled like wet socks and bubblegum. Towers of mismatched socks stretched as high as giraffes, and rivers of lost marbles glinted under twinkling firefly lights. A tiny gnome with a beard as tangled as spaghetti stood before her, stomping his foot. "I’M THE GRUMBLING GNOME!" he shouted, his face turning as red as a tomato. "EVERYTHING HERE IS LOST FOREVER, AND IT’S NOT FAIR!" His voice echoed like a drum in a tin can.

Hannah’s eyes widened. The gnome’s anger was so big, it made the lost objects tremble. A teacup wobbled, a shoelace slithered away like a snake, and a single sock floated up like a balloon. "Oh dear," Hannah whispered, patting the gnome’s shoulder. His beard felt prickly, like a brush made of pine needles. "Why are you so cross?"

The gnome crossed his arms. "Because! My favorite spoon—the one with the little heart—is LOST! And I’ve looked EVERYWHERE!" He kicked a pile of buttons, sending them scattering with a Ping! Ping! Ping! Hannah giggled as one landed on her nose. "Maybe it’s not lost," she said. "Maybe it’s just... waiting."

The gnome huffed, his breath smelling like burnt toast. "Waiting? Pfft! I don’t have time for waiting!" He stomped off, muttering, "I’ll find it myself!" But—TRIP!—his foot caught on a rogue yo-yo, and he face-planted into a mountain of stuffed animals. Boing! Boing! The toys bounced him back up like a trampoline.

Hannah clapped her hands. "Let’s play a game! If we find your spoon, you’ll stop grumbling, okay?" The gnome rubbed his nose, which was now as red as a cherry. "Fine. But no cheating!" Hannah grinned. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The Underground World smelled like old books and fresh rain. She listened: the drip-drip of a leaky faucet, the rustle-rustle of a lost scarf blowing in the breeze. Then—clink!—a tiny sound, like a spoon tapping glass.

"There!" Hannah pointed to a tiny cave behind a waterfall of tangled headphones. The gnome gasped. "That’s where I left it!" He wiggled through the headphones (which tickled his ears like spider legs) and emerged holding his spoon. "You... you found it!" His voice wobbled, and his beard seemed less spiky. "I’m sorry I was so grumbly."

Hannah hugged him. His gnome coat felt soft, like a well-loved blanket. "It’s okay to be cross," she said. "But sometimes, things just need a little time." The gnome nodded. "And a little help," he added, handing her the spoon. "For you."

With a Pop! and a puff of glitter, Hannah was back in her closet. She tucked the spoon into her pocket, right next to her feather. Outside, the moon shone like a silver coin, and the house smelled like lavender and bedtime stories. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard a faint giggle from the Underground World—and the sound of a gnome, finally at peace.