Steam rose from the coffee, swirling ghostly above the chipped table where old photographs, yellowed with time, lay forgotten beneath a dusty glass vase.
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Steam rose, curling from the cracked sidewalk, whispering tales of yesterday's rainstorm. A squirrel darted, clutching a single acorn, its tail twitching. Nearby, bicycles raced.
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Watching squirrels navigate urban spaces, their acrobatics resemble miniature parkour athletes, leaping effortlessly between branches, defying gravity with each nimble movement.
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