Beneath fluorescent glare, cafeteria chatter fades; a lone pigeon pecks at a forgotten fry, indifferent to the bustling lunch crowd, the silent observer of humanity's fast-paced rituals.
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Steam rises lazily from mom's apple pie, filling the kitchen with spicy sweet warmth. Meanwhile, the cat eyes a day-old sandwich with suspicious curiosity.
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Staring at the toaster, I wondered if it knew how important golden-brown mornings were. It seemed indifferent, but that slight hum hinted at untold stories.
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