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A symphony of barks echoed through the house yesterday, a day of significance for my father who had an important shoot. My mother, too, was embroiled in the thick of it, her attention consumed by the event. I found myself nestled on our familiar couch, engrossed in my own world, when my mother's hands scooped me up and the door creaked open. One stranger entered, followed by another. For a fleeting moment, I envisioned them occupying my couch for an extended period, but they remained mostly upright, aiding my father in his endeavor. Yet, to my dismay, my parents relegated me to another room, a necessary sacrifice for the concentration required for my father's film class. A sense of disbelief washed over me. I was barred from my own couch! True, my mother would peek in on me intermittently, but my heart yearned for the comfort of my couch. It was Sunday, after all! However, the ordeal was short-lived. Soon, the men had departed, and tranquility returned to our home. It was just my father, my mother, and me, nestled once again on our beloved couch.

				26/3/2024 @ 2:18
				Second Iteration

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