Crumbs from breakfast linger on the kitchen counter, resembling tiny islands. A lone ant embarks on an accidental voyage, drawn by aromatic cinnamon remnants.
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Freshly baked bread cooling on the windowsill, its aroma mingling with the distant sound of a neighbor's lawnmower, slices through morning stillness—simple joy.
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Socks vanish mysteriously, leaving orphaned pairs. Meanwhile, our lonely toaster dreams of perfectly crisp mornings, waiting for bread's warm embrace.
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