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𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝑳𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒔, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖. - 𝐶𝑙𝑒𝑜 𝑆𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖

In the quaint town lived a young woman named Charlotte Watsford. Her days were filled with the quiet rhythms of the local library, where she worked meticulously cataloging books that had seen more years than she had. Charlotte had an unassuming beauty, with her auburn hair pinned back. Her smile was gentle, and it had the power to make even the sternest of patrons feel at ease. Beneath the veneer of the town, there was a world of magic, ancient and unseen. It was here that Charlotte's life took an unexpected turn when she met Cleo Sertori, a young woman with secrets as deep as the ocean. Cleo was a mermaid, a guardian of the sea, blessed with the ability to manipulate water and heal the creatures that dwelled within it. The revelation was as shocking as it was fascinating. Yet, with this gift came great responsibility, and Charlotte found herself torn between the life she knew and the allure of the vast, unexplored waters that called to her soul. One moonlit night, while the town slept peacefully, Charlotte felt an eerie emptiness within her. The gentle whispers of the sea that had once resonated in her heart were now silent. Panic set in as she realized her mermaid tail, a symbol of her newfound identity, had withered away, leaving her with the legs of a human once more. The loss of her powers weighed heavily on her, a sudden and profound absence that seemed to dull the vibrant colors of the world around her. Her heart pounded as she approached the edge. The ocean below was a restless canvas of inky blues and greys, a stark contrast to the serene waters that had cradled her during her time as a mermaid. The salt air kissed her cheeks, carrying with it a bittersweet reminder of the freedom she had left behind. Lewis, her devoted best friend, stood beside her, his eyes filled concern and curiosity. With trembling hands, Charlotte reached to Cleo's necklace. It was a talisman of her friendship with the mermaid, a bond that transcended the boundaries of land and sea. "I have to return this to her," she murmured, the weight of her decision etched into every syllable. With a heavy heart, Charlotte unclasped the necklace.

→ яємємвєя мє αη∂ вєαя ιη мιη∂, α ƒαιтнƒυℓ gιяℓ ιѕ нαя∂ тσ ƒιη∂. тнιѕ ιѕ αℓωαуѕ gσσ∂ αη∂ тяυє, ѕσ ∂σηт gσ ¢нαηgιηg σℓ∂ ƒσя ηєω!

⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡄⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣉⣉⣉⣉⡒⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣭⣭⣉⠒⠄⠀⠀⠀⣈⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⠁⠀⢀⣈⠁⠀⣈⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣍⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠉⠉⠙⢿⣦⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠉⠉⠛⣿⣄⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⠘⡛⠀⠈⠉⠉⢹⣿⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠄⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⣾⡇⢹⣷⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡏⠀⢠⣿⠁⠀⢻⣧⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣃⣒⣒⣀⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⣌⣒⣂⣠⣾⠟⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⠁⠀⣠⡍⠀⠀⠀⠀⣬⡅⠀⠀⣬⡅⠀⠀⣬⡍⠀⠀⠀⢀⣬⠁⠀⢀⣬⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⡭⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣭⠀⠀⣠⡍⠀⠀⣠⣭⡍⠀⠀⠀⢀⣬⣭⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢹⣿⠋⠉⠉⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠃⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⢀⣤⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢛⠃⠀⢠⣿⢹⣧⠀⠀⢠⡿⢹⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣤⣭⣭⣥⣾⡟⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⣾⡇⢹⣷⡀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣇⣴⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀⣸⡇⢸⣿⠀⢠⡿⠁⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠉⠉⠉⢀⣿⠇⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⢻⣧⢰⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⠟⠁⠘⣿⣆⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⢸⣿⢀⣾⠃⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠀⠀⣸⡿⠀⠀⣸⡟⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡏⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⣿⣿⠃⠀⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣈⣍⣉⣉⣉⣑⠢⠀⠀⢀⣈⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣉⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠉⠉⠉⠙⢿⣧⠀⠀⣼⡿⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⡀⠀⢀⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣐⣒⣂⣠⣿⠇⠀⢀⣿⣇⣬⣭⣭⣭⡅⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⣠⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠉⠉⠻⣿⡉⠄⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣴⣏⣀⣁⣀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡀⠀⠀⣿⣇⣐⣓⣒⣒⣒⠂⠀⣼⡟⠉⠉⠉⠉⢿⣇⠀⠀⣾⣏⣐⣒⣒⣒⡂⠀⢸⣿⣀⣓⣒⣒⣒⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣭⣭⣍⡑⢄⠀⠀⣬⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡍⠀⣠⣭⣭⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⠀⢠⣭⣭⣭⣭⣉⡑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡅⠀⣠⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠋⠉⠉⠙⣿⣆⠁⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⢀⣿⠏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣿⡏⠉⠉⠉⠙⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠃⠀⠉⠉⢉⣿⠏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠸⣿⡀⠀⠀⣼⠟⠀⠀⣸⣿⣠⣭⣭⣭⣭⠀⠀⢰⣿⣁⣒⣒⣀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣾⡟⠉⠙⢻⣯⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⣌⣓⣒⣠⣾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣁⣒⣚⣛⣒⡒⠀⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠇⠀