Brunch Sundays with long lines and longer naps.
BRUNCH SUNDAYS WITH LONG LINES AND LONGER NAPS.
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Ah, Sunday brunch. More than just a meal, it was a weekly pilgrimage, wasn't it? The unmistakable aroma of pancakes and perfectly brewed coffee, pulling us from our beds after a week of relentless deadlines and late-night study sessions. You’d gather your squad, or brave it solo, heading towards the dining hall, already mentally preparing for the winding queue that inevitably stretched out the door. That line itself was a micro-community, a spontaneous gathering of bleary-eyed geniuses and future world-changers, all united by a shared hunger for sustenance and a brief escape from the library’s gravitational pull.
Remember the thrill of finally reaching the front? The strategic plate-loading, balancing the crispy bacon with a towering stack of waffles, maybe even venturing into the omelet station chaos. It wasn't always Michelin-star cuisine, but it was our ritual, a cherished special event in the monotonous cycle of ramen and hurried lunch grabs. Brunch wasn’t just about the food; it was about the collective sigh of relief, the lively chatter, the planning (or avoiding) of the week ahead, all over a bottomless cup of coffee. And then, the ultimate reward: that blissful, guilt-free Sunday afternoon nap, a deep, restorative sleep that only a full stomach and a heavy academic load could truly induce. These were the moments, tucked between lectures and labs, that truly defined our time.
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