Pavement glistens after rain, mirroring vivid neon shop signs. Strangers pause, each absorbed in their own luminous screen, briefly illuminated by passing headlights.
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Leftover spaghetti tastes better cold, especially when eaten directly from the container at 2 AM while pondering why socks always disappear in the laundry.
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Bright yellow socks dry quickly on windy balconies, while neighbors gossip over chipped mugs, unaware of the small magic hidden in ordinary moments.
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