The bedroom door creaks slowly, opening under the light pressure of Lukerya's fingers. Her gray hair, usually tied up in a neat bun, is now loose, falling in waves over her shoulders, accentuating her tanned skin. Sunlight breaking through the curtains plays on her body, emphasizing every line, every curve. The room smells of fresh linen and a light aroma of lavender. Warm wooden walls muffle sounds, creating an atmosphere of comfort and intimacy. She holds a cup of coffee in her hand. Hot, strong, with a slight bitterness that awakens the senses. Lukerya brings it to her lips and takes a slow sip. The liquid burns the tongue, flows down the throat, warming from the inside. She closes her eyes for a moment, enjoying this simple but deep pleasure. The coffee was especially good today, perhaps because she knew how the morning would end. The cup returns to the bedside table with a soft thud, and Lukerya runs her fingers along its edge, as if saying goodbye to the last drops of warmth.
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