Staring at my coffee mug, I noticed its chipped handle resembled a tiny mountain range, casting peculiar shadows across my cluttered desk, an unplanned landscape.
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A forgotten umbrella leans against the café wall on Elm Street, its blue handle worn from countless rainy days, whispering stories of storms to passing pedestrians.
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Coffee mugs clatter on marble counters as autumn winds scatter golden leaves across city sidewalks. Mornings unfold with brisk clarity, crisp air invigorating sleepy commuters.
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