Stacks of unread books gather dust, while a single bookmark dances between pages, marking lifeβs unpredictable pauses amidst quiet chaos.
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Finding a crumpled receipt from 2015 under the couch, I wondered why I bought twelve orange socks. Now, it feels like unearthing a forgotten chapter from my past life.
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Green tea steam curls upward, mingling with dawn's crisp air. A neighbor's dog barks twice, chasing invisible adventures. Somewhere, toast pops. Quiet morning symphony.
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