Crumbs scatter underfoot as toast crunches loudly, neighbors hum through walls, and the kettle whistles impatiently, marking the morning's unspoken rituals.
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Coffee steams beside a forgotten puzzle, while a lone sock hides under the couch, witnessing dust bunnies dance around the beige carpet.
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Hummingbirds pause mid-air, sipping nectar from trumpet vines, their wings a blur of energy. Observing this moment, I wonder if stillness ever feels as alive as movement.
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