Deep beneath the cobblestone streets of Oldtown, where the lamplight never quite reached, there was a hidden door. It creaked like an old man’s rocking chair and smelled of damp wool and forgotten spices. Zoey, with her untied shoelaces flapping like tiny flags, pressed her nose against the cold brass keyhole. Click-clack! The lock tumbled open, and—whoosh!—a gust of wind smelling of burnt marshmallows and old library books pulled her inside.

The Underground World of Lost Objects stretched before her, a cavern so vast it made her eyes water. The walls glittered with buttons, keys, and mismatched socks, all humming a quiet tune like a chorus of sleepy bees. Zoey’s fingers trailed over a pile of velvet scarves, softer than her favorite blanket, when—squelch!—her foot sank into something squishy. A half-eaten jelly sandwich, its crusts curled like question marks, stuck to her shoe. "Ewwww!" she giggled, shaking her leg until it flew off and landed on a grumpy-looking teapot with one chipped ear.

"You’re standing on my shadow," the teapot grumbled, its voice like gravel in a tin can. "And now you’ve ruined my lunch."

Zoey’s cheeks burned hotter than a toaster. "S-sorry!" she stammered, hopping onto a stack of encyclopedias (which wobbled like a tower of pancakes). The teapot sighed, sending a puff of steam that smelled of peppermint and regret. "Well, since you’re here, you might as well help. The Whispering Locket has gone missing, and without it, the Underground World will forget how to be patient."

Zoey’s heart did a little flip. "Patience? Like waiting for your turn on the swings?"

"Exactly like that," the teapot said, nodding so hard its lid rattled. "Clink-clank!" "Only worse. Right now, the spoons are clattering like a marching band, the umbrellas are poking each other in the ribs, and the alarm clocks—well, let’s just say they’ve given up on snoozing."

Zoey gulped. The air smelled like overripe bananas and static electricity, and the sound of ticking clocks echoed like a hundred woodpeckers. She had to find that locket—fast. But where to start? She spun in a circle, her sneakers squeaking on the polished floor (which felt slick as a puddle of melted ice cream). Then she spotted it: a tiny, silver locket, half-buried under a mountain of rubber duckies. It glowed faintly, like a firefly trapped in a jar.

"Found you!" Zoey cheered, lunging for it. But—whoops!—her elbow knocked over a tower of cookie tins. Crash! Bang! Boom! The tins rolled like runaway wheels, scattering crumbs that smelled of cinnamon and mischief. The locket skittered away, bouncing off a pile of stuffed animals before landing in the outstretched paw of a very smug-looking teddy bear.

"Looking for this?" the bear said, dangling the locket just out of reach. His fur was rough as a scrubbing brush, and his button eyes gleamed. "You’ll have to be patient if you want it back."

Zoey’s hands clenched into fists. "But I am patient!" she protested. "I waited forever for my birthday last year!"

The teddy bear chuckled, a sound like rustling leaves. "Did you now?" He tossed the locket into the air, catching it with a snick! "Then prove it. Sit. Wait. Don’t move a muscle."

Zoey’s knees wobbled. The floor was hard as a frozen pizza, and the smell of dust and old crayons tickled her nose. She counted to ten. Then twenty. A spider dangled from the ceiling, swinging like a tiny acrobat. One Mississippi, two Mississippi... Her foot started to tingle. "Can’t I just—"

"Nope!" the teddy bear said, wagging a paw. "Patience isn’t about waiting for what you want. It’s about waiting for the right time."

Zoey took a deep breath. The air smelled like rain on hot pavement, and the distant hum of the Underground World wrapped around her like a cozy sweater. She closed her eyes. She listened. And then—click. The locket landed in her palm, warm as a freshly baked cookie. The teddy bear grinned. "See? Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is... nothing at all."

Back in the main cavern, the teapot let out a whistle of relief. The spoons stopped clattering, the umbrellas un-poked each other, and the alarm clocks let out a collective sigh. The Underground World sighed, smelling of lavender and fresh laundry, as everything settled back into place. Zoey fastened the locket around her neck, its chain cool as a sip of lemonade. "I get it now," she said, smiling. "Patience isn’t just waiting. It’s having the courage to trust the wait."

As she stepped back through the creaky door, the scent of burnt marshmallows and old books followed her. The cobblestones were warm under her feet, and her untied shoelaces flapped like they were waving goodbye. Zoey took one last look at the Underground World, her heart full. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends about her adventure—but first, she’d have to be patient. After all, good things were worth waiting for.