A lone sock, missing its partner, clings to the dryer door. Forgotten, it waves a quiet goodbye to thoughts of ever rejoining the world beyond laundry day.
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Staring at the blinking cursor, I realized: my computer knows my coffee routine better than I do. Mornings here mean caffeine, spreadsheets, and existential reflections.
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Sunlight dances across puddles, revealing pavement secrets hidden beneath urban chaos. Morning commuters dodge raindrops, balancing coffee cups like delicate art forms in a bustling gallery.
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