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The steamy embrace of the pot was unlike anything Broccoli had known in the fridge. As his fibrous body softened, Broccoli's thoughts drifted into the great beyond. Yet, in this liminal space, new questions arose.
Across town, a lonely tire sat discarded on the curb. It had once rolled proudly as part of a vehicle, fulfilling its purpose of transporting people and goods from place to place. But now it was cast aside, forgotten, with no sense of where it belonged.
"What is my purpose alone here?" pondered the tire. It looked enviously at the other tires still in service, zooming by on cars and trucks. But mostly, it wondered - was this ignominious post finally where it was always destined to end up? Or could there be more?
Just then, a crow landed nearby, eyeing the tire with curiosity and hunger. But before it could make a meal, the tire spoke up - the first words it had uttered since being removed.
"Flesh of rubber, I may be. Yet inside beats a thinking thing, as within any," sighed the tire. The crow tilted its head, listening intently to the philosophical ruminations of this most unlikely sage.
And in that moment, two souls across the city found solace - one in the steam, one in the street. For while life moves us in ways beyond our knowing, the questions we ask give meaning wherever we may roam...