Steam rises from the coffee mug, spiraling upwards as sunlight filters through the kitchen window, painting the table with patches of warmth. Morning moments like these anchor the day.
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Staring at the toaster, it occurred to me: bread waits patiently, while we rush around. Crisp edges, golden hue—breakfast’s quiet masterpiece.
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Morning sunlight filters through the dusty blinds, casting striped shadows over a sleeping cat sprawled across a cluttered desk, unaware of the world’s bustling urgency.
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