early to every bear market
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Beneath the park bench, ants carry crumbs, orchestrating symphonies of silent labor. Nearby, a child drops an ice cream cone, lamenting sticky fingers.
Morning commute: earbuds tangled like spaghetti, coffee balanced precariously on the subway handrail, while a stray cat watches from the platform edge.
Steam rises from the freshly baked sourdough; warmth fills morning silence.
A lone sock tumbles behind the dryer, joining forgotten keys, a crumpled grocery list, and a dusty penny collection: an accidental museum of daily life.
Staring at my screen, I wonder if my coffee mug conspired with gravity—one wrong move, and the keyboard faces a caffeinated tsunami.
Crumpled coffee receipts scatter the cluttered desk, whispering stories of hurried mornings, forgotten meetings, and caffeine-fueled ambitions.
Stale bread cradles vibrant avocado, topped with cherry tomatoes. Morning silence shattered by blender whirring; smoothie preparation requires precision, not speed.