Steam rises from a single coffee mug, painting warmth into the chilly morning air. Nearby, a cat stretches lazily, acknowledging the sunbeam with a slow blink, contentment visible.
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Coffee machine grumbles, churning the morning's first brew. Sunlight sneaks through curtains, spotlighting dust pirouettes. Toaster ejects, bread triumphant.
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Lost socks: unsolved mysteries within laundry cycles, vanishing without trace, leaving lone counterparts behind. Who designs these stealthy operations? Silent conspirators—washing machines.
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