Deliciously crispy, the morning toast sat stubbornly in the toaster, awaiting liberation. Coffee bubbled, scenting the room with an aroma of quiet anticipation.
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Staring silently, the toaster releases a faint puff. Crisp edges, golden warmth. Nearby, a cat watches, unimpressed, tail twitching rhythmically. Breakfast's quiet symphony.
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Coffee cups crowd the kitchen counter, whispering tales of forgotten mornings.
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