Pigeons congregate on sunlit benches, ignoring bustling pedestrians while savoring scattered crumbs from yesterday's forgotten sandwich. Urban ballet at its finest.
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Keys jingle, forgotten in yesterday's jeans. Morning coffee awaits, steam rising like the sun's first breath. Unmatched socks find unity on cold feet. Tuesday begins.
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Steam rose from the pavement, revealing hidden potholes where tiny boats could sail. Commuters dodged puddles, racing against the soggy clock, umbrellas in hand.
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