Crisp leaves dance underfoot, each step snapping their brittle skeletons. Autumn’s palette paints sidewalks golden, while distant chimneys yawn gray whispers skyward.
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Staring at the blinking cursor, I realized my keyboard clicks sounded like distant rain, while the coffee cup cooled unnoticed beside neglected sticky notes.
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Sudden scent of wet ink—printing presses whirring to life—reminds us: in a digital age, tangible words still hold unexpected weight.
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