You know, sometimes the stars blink in Morse code. Got a message from Orion just last night.
He said something about how the couch could be an allied diplomat in disguise.
Picture this: a toaster, gleaming with ambition, thinks it can bake bread emotionally.
Every crumb, a thesis on warmth and golden crust therapy.
The moon paused, caught in a luminous hesitation between dusk and dawn. Listen closely...