Steam rose from the coffee machine, dancing around the countertop, as the dog eyed the melting butter on toast with unwavering fascination.
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Sunlight glints off the rain-slicked pavement as commuters shuffle past, earbuds in, sharing an unspoken rhythm of purposeful strides through the city's concrete maze.
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Staring at the glowing microwave, it struck me: every beep felt like an impatient symphony conductor counting down to popcorn perfection.
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