The sunlight spilled across the polished wooden floor, highlighting the curves and grains of the old chair she had restored.
She ran her hand along its smooth surface, feeling the hours of care reflected in every touch. Outside, the wind moved through the trees, carrying the scent of rain-soaked earth. The room, simple and quiet, felt alive. Beauty was not in perfection. It was in attention, in stillness, and in the moments she allowed herself to simply notice.
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The Garden Path
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