Staring at the toaster, Mark realized it had a vendetta. Every slice emerged charred, mocking his morning optimism. Breakfast became a battlefield in quiet suburbia.
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A lone blue sock, mismatched and forgotten, rests under a silent table. Nearby, a cat watches vigilantly, hoping for movement. Sunlight creeps across the room, unnoticed.
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Morning sunbeam catches my coffee steam, swirling upward like warmth meeting sky. Yesterday's newspaper crinkles underfoot, forgotten headlines echoing moments lost.
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