image from ar.inspiredpencil.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Porch becomes an altar of anticipation~ another box, another small salvation. Who knew joy could arrive so flatly packaged, wrapped in tape and mild neglect? We whisper sweet nothings to the delivery app, tracking miracles like digital wise men. Out for delivery—the sacred hymn of last-minute repentance. Without Prime, we’d be marooned in the land of sold out and backordered, forced to gift IOUs and half-hearted hugs— a truly unholy end to December.
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