I could hear the faint crackling sounds that made themselves heard over the hustle of Boston city life. They were soft in a way that make me wonder whether they are real or something I, falsely, keep imagining. I could also feel the gentle warmth that careened over the glass edges and came to rest on my fingers, letting me know that I am not alone. I could smell, almost even taste, the fragrance that is being set free, which as a gesture of gratitude, is filling my room as well as my lungs with a delicate mixture of strawberries and coconuts.
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