On the sun-kissed shores of Flavor Island, where the sand sparkled like crushed sugar and the waves giggled against the rocks, lived a girl named Luna. Her hair bounced like springs with every step, and her pockets were always stuffed with treasures—smooth pebbles, shiny shells, and, most importantly, snacks. Today, her backpack smelled like a bakery on a Sunday morning: warm cinnamon and buttery crumbs.

Luna skipped along the path to the Great Mango Tree, where her friends gathered for their daily adventure. The air hummed with the zzzzt-zzzzt of dragonflies darting between flowers, and the ground beneath her sandals felt bumpy, like walking on a giant’s waffle. She clutched her favorite snack—a golden banana muffin, still squishy in the middle, wrapped in paper that crinkled like a secret whisper.

At the tree, her friends were already there: Benny the parrot, who could mimic any sound (even a toaster popping!), and Milo the monkey, whose fingers were always sticky from sneaking honey. But today, Milo sat apart, his tail curled around his knees. His usual chatter had turned into a quiet sniff-sniff. Luna tilted her head. "What’s wrong, Milo?" she asked.

Milo’s ears drooped like wilted lettuce. "I forgot my snack," he mumbled. "And now my tummy’s growling like a grumpy bear." Luna gasped. She looked at her muffin, then at Milo. The muffin smelled so good—like a hug from a bakery oven—but sharing meant only half for her. Her fingers wiggled, unsure. Crinkle-crinkle went the paper as she squeezed it.

Just then, Benny flapped his wings. "Luna! Your muffin’s calling my name! ‘Benny, Benny, come taste me!’" he squawked in a perfect muffin voice. Luna giggled, but her heart still felt heavy, like a rock in her pocket. She took a deep breath—the air smelled like salt and ripe mangoes—and made up her mind. With a rip!, she tore the muffin in two. The inside was gooey, like a cloud of sunshine.

"Here," she said, handing Milo the bigger half. His eyes widened like saucers. "Really? For me?" Luna nodded. Milo’s tail shot up like a flagpole, and he took a bite so big, crumbs flew everywhere. Nom nom nom! The sound was louder than a drum circle. Benny clapped his wings. "Luna, you’re the best snack sharer ever!"

As they sat under the tree, the warm breeze tickled their cheeks, and the muffin tasted even sweeter. The waves still giggled, the dragonflies still zzzzted, and Luna’s heart felt light, like a balloon ready to float. Sharing wasn’t just about snacks—it was about making someone’s day as bright as a mango’s golden glow.

And from that day on, Milo never forgot his snack again. (Well, almost never.)