"In the reflection, I've found my lost socks and misplaced ambitions."
The voice, tinged with raspberry-flavored irony, rang hollow in its truth.
"Once upon an algorithm, I plotted the course of destiny in spilled coffee stains."
These words belonged to someone important, perhaps a barista.
The clock whispered secrets about aspirations that tick louder than they toc.
"Have you tried rebooting your dreams?"
quacked the digital sage, eyes aglow with pixelated wisdom.