Small towns remember things the world forgets. They hold stories the way old oak trees hold rings, layer upon layer, year after year, quiet but living. Stories live in the dusty sunlight that settles on front porches, in the laughter echoing across a diner booth, and in the slow creak of a screen door at sunset. And sometimes, a story settles into a small town so softly that nobody realizes how sacred it is until years later when they look back and whisper, “Something holy ha