Strawberries always vanish first during office potlucks, leaving behind only celery and carrot sticks. Perhaps sweet trumps healthy in communal snacking choices.
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Peeling potatoes makes time crawl; steam fogs the glasses, reminding one to appreciate the ordinary. Tonight, dinner smells like resilience and quiet triumph.
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Morning sunlight glances off the toaster, casting fleeting geometric shadows across cracked kitchen tile. Nearby, a misfit sock mourns its absent partner, quietly defiant.
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