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The morning reflection

In the quiet of the early morning, Maria adjusted the hem of her flowy dress, the soft light casting warm hues across her bedroom. Her dark, wavy hair fell naturally around her shoulders as she moved, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the faint hum of dawn. A small, vintage clock ticked softly on the nightstand, its golden hands moving slowly through the predawn hours. Maria’s reflection in the mirror seemed to hold stories of a life lived fully, her eyes wise but still carrying the marks of youth. The room was alive with the subtle textures of fabric, light, and shadow, capturing a moment as genuine as the woman herself.